BV-  I/AURA  JEAN  \LIBBEY 

I  The  AWHW^ISi7T£)OK  Compafeyp* 
!  CLE.VHI.AMr     U.S.A.  I 


PRETTY    MADCAP 
DOROTHY 

OR 

How  She  Won  a  Lover 

A  Romance  of  the  Jolliest  Girl  in  the  Book-Bind 
ery,  and  a  magnificent  Love  Story  of  the  life  of  a 
Beautiful,  Willful  New  York  Working  GirL 

BY  MISS  LAURA  JEAN  LIBBEY 


HART  SERIES  No.  19. 


COPYRIGHT,  1891,  BY  CEO.  MONRO'S  Sows 


Published  by 

THE  ARTHUR   WESTBROOK   COMPANY. 
CLEVELAND,  0,  U.  S.  A. 


inted  in  the  United  StaUs  of  America? 


CONTENTS. 


Chapter  I        .  •  •  .  •*  v  •  •      :«  •  m  •*. 

Chapter  II       ...,.;.:  •:      >:  «  «  *  f* 

Chapter  III      .  .  ,-  »      ••.  •  »:      as  •  •»,  « 

Chapter  1Y      .  .  .  .       .  .  »      *  »  :«  *  32 

Chapter  V       .  .  .  .  ..-  .,  •:      ».  «  :«  «  38 

Chapter  VI      .  ,.  .  .  :«  «  «      .,  ..:  »  »  45 

Chapter  VII    .  .  ,  ..  ••  •  m      *  •  •••  *  ^3 

Chapter  VIII  ....       .  .  >:      ..  .  .  *  60 

Chapter  IX  .;  .  *-.<•.  :•;  :«      •.  .-«  •  :«  66 

Chapter  X       .•  ..  .«  ,.  ...  •«  r«      »:  *•  .:  -«  73 

Chapter  XI      *  .  . .  ..-  M  .:  M      :«  :«  .  *  79 

Chapter  XII    k  v  •«  .  .  •••  :«      .«  »:  ••:  w  86 

Chapter  XIII  «*'-«*  i»v  '  4  •*      :«  :«  *  •* 

Chapter  XIV  .  .  .  -«  M  «  *      :«  :.;  *•  . 

Chapter  XV     .  *  :r  .       .  w  M      *  ».  •  •  105 

Chapter  XVI  .  •«  .  :«••.«      ,-«  :*:  .  * 

Chapter  XVII  «  .  -.3  :.-  ,.:  «      n  *  -.:  .  US 

Chapter  XVIII  «  :«  ,:  .:  «  M      *  .-.  .  * 

Chapter  XIX  .  •«  ..  M  w  L«  *      ^  %  «  «  131 

Chapter  XX     .  ..  -  •*  v  -.-.  -«  ..      »  .  -.:  .  133 

Chapter  XXI  ,  »  v  .  .  »  M      «  ,.,  *  .  144 

Chapter  XXII  »  .  .  -«,  M  :«   l' »  »  -.-  .-  151 

Chapter  XXIII'  *  -r  -.,  :.:  «  K      K  w  .  •»-.  157 

Chapter  XXIV  »-  M  >•  -*  *:*:«.**.  163 

Chapter  XXV  «  «  •«  ,.  *  »      .«  -..  x  .  168 

Chapter  XXVI  »  «  w  „  w  •'.'»;«  -  »  174 

Chapter  XXVII  »:  «  w  :«  «  *      a  M  ^  ,  180 

Chapter  XXVIII  .  :<e  «  »  .  «    >  p  «,  v  186 

Chapter  XXIX  «  «  «  :r  w  •«      «  ^  -  »  192 

Chapter  XXX  .:».„«  *:«»:*«  *  198 

Chapter  XXXI  ..  :,  ,:  :.  »  w      «  «  w  «  204 

Chapter  XXXII  .,  M  «  ii  .«  :  •*•"'-«,»'«  OT 

Chapter  XXXIII  «  «  „  ,  «  »      „  „  ,  ,  214 

Chapter  XXXIV  *««-«««.(««.  22Q 

Chapter  XXXV  «  M  «  «  ,.  «      „  „  «  .  226 

Chapter  XXXVI  .,  »  ^  ^  ,  m      «  „  -«  .  232 

Chapter  XXXVII  •-«««««.««  238 

Chapter  XXXVIJI  .  :w  ,  m  +  ,m  «  .-  «  242 

Chapter  XXXIX  «  «  »  «  »  «  ;  24* 


970899 


Pretty  Madcap  Dorothy 


OR 

She  Won  a  Lover 


CHAPTER  L, 

"It's  so  hard  (for  working-girls  to  get  acquainted. 
They  never  meet  a  rich  young  man,  and  they  don'f- 
want  a  poor  one.  It  seems  to  me  that  a  girl  who 
has  to  commence  early  to  work  for  her  living  might 
just  as  well  give  up  forever  all  hopes  of  a  lover  and 
of  marrying,"  declared  Nadine  Holt,  one  of  the  pret 
tiest  girls  in  the  immense  bock-bindery,  to  the  group 
of  companions  who  were  gathered  about  her.  "It's 
get  up  at  daylight,  swallow  your  breakfast,  and  hurry 
to  work ;  and  it's  dark  before  you  are  out  on  the  street 
again.  How  can  we  *ver  expect  to  meet  a  marriage 
able  fellow?" 

"Do  you  know  what  /  think,  girls?"  cried  a 
shrill  but  very  sweet  young  voice,  from  the  direction 
of  the  window-ledge,  adding  breathlessly:  "I  believe 
if  fate  has  any  lover  in  store  for  a  girl,  that  he  will 
be  sure  to  just  happen  io  come  where  she  is,  on  one 
mission  or  another.  Thai's  the  way  that  it  all  hap 
pens  tn  novels,  I  took  particular  pains  to  notice. 


C  PRETTY    MADCAP   DOROTHY 

These  people  who  write  must  know  just  how  it  is,  ? 
reckon." 

"Well,  now,  who  would  ever  have  imagined  that  a 
chit  of  a  thing  like  you,  Dorothy  Glenn,  would  have 
the  impudence  to  put  in  your  oar,  or  that  you  ever 
thought  of  lovers,  or  marrying,  and  you  only  sixteen 
a  day  or  so  ago?"  cried  one.  "It's  absurd!" 

"I  wasn't  saying  anything  about  my  ever  marrying, 
I  was  just  telling  you  what  I  thought  about  ever  meet-- 
ing  the  fellow  who  is  intended  for  you — 'the  right 
one' — as  you  call  it." 

"'What  if  you  were  in  a  desert?"  suggested  Nadine, 
with  a 'curl  of  her  red' lip.  "Surely  you  couldn't  ex- 
,pe(lt;  &  young,  riiaii  .would  ever  find  a  business  that 
Vb'uM'Bririg  him  'out  there  to  \ou,  could  you?" 

"Why  not?"  cried  pretty  little  Dorothy.  "Of  course 
fate  would  send  my  Prince  Charming  even  into  a  des 
ert  to  find  me,"  cooed  Dorothy.  "And  as  to  the  busi 
ness  that  would  bring  him — why,  he  could  come  there 
to  capture  the  ostriches  which  are  to  be  found  only  in 
the  heart  of  the  desert — so  there!  You  know  the  old 
adage :  'People  meet  where  hills  and  mountains  don't/ 
I  tell  you  there's  some  truth  in  that." 

"It's  a  good  thing  to  have  so  much  assurance  and 
hope,"  said  Nadine,  with  a  curl  of  her  lip.  "I  trust 
that  you  may  find  plenty  of  lovers  in  the  future, 
though  I  doubt  it." 

"I  have  plenty  now,"  declared  Dorothy,  waltzing 
nimbly  about  the  floor,  as  only  a  bright,  happy, 
thoughtless  young  girl  can  who  is  free  from  care.  "I 
couldn't  count  all  who  make  eyes  at  me  now,  so  what 
will  it  be  when  I  get  as  old  as  the  rest  of  you  girls  ?" 
—this  a  trifle  maliciously,  for  every  one.  of  them  was 


PRETTY   MADCAf  DOROTHY  71, 

at  least  twenty,  and  that  seemed  rather  passce  to  thia  < 
fcit  of  femininity  of  sweet  sixteen. 

Some  one  noticed  that  the  huge  clock  on  the  mantel 
wanted  just  three  minutes  to  one,  so  the  fragments 
of  luncheftn  were  crammed  back  into  their  baskets,  and! 
the  girls,  chatting  and  laughing,  went  back  to  theifi 
work,  for  they  had  a  very  particular  foreman.  But 
ene  of  their  number,  Jessie  Staples,  hung  back  to  have 
/  a  word  with  Dorothy. 

"I  hope  that  you  will  not  grow  into  a  flirt,"  she 
said,  slipping  her  arm  about  Dorothy's  waist  and  look- 
ing  into  the  young  girl's  flushed  face  with  serious  eyes, 
adding:  "This  brings  me  to  the  question  that  I  in 
tended  asking  you  this  noon.  .Where  did  you  meet 
that  young  car  conductor  who  walked  up  as  far  as 
your  home  with  you  last  night?  Do  tell  me,  little 
Dorothy."  ) 

"Were  you  spying  upon  me,  you  mean  thing?"  cried 
Dorothy  Glenn,  blushing  as  fiery  red  as  f  the  crimson 
heart  of  a  peony,  and  stamping  angrily  the  tiniest  of 
little  feet;  and  she  flung  her  companion's  arm  from 
her  as  though  it  had  stung  her. 

"Can't  you  tell  me?"  pleaded  Jessie,  earnestly.  "Re 
member,  you  have  no  one  to  warn  you.  You  are  aa 
orphan  in  this  great,  cold  world,  and— and  you  are 
so  young  that  you  don't  know  life,  and  can  not  realize 
that  every  young  man  who  smiles  into  your  eyes  and 
says  flattering  things  is  not  in  love.  When  you  have 
no  relative  to  confide  in,  you  ought  to  have  a  girl 
friend  older  and  wiser  than  yourself.  Let  me  be  that 
friend  to  you,  Dorothy." 

As  she  listened,  the  momentary  anger  died  out  of 
the  girl's  face.  She  couldn't  keep  angry  with 


8  PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY 

body  very  long,  and  quite  before  Jessie  had  finished 
her  sentence  a  pair  of  plump  white  arms  were  thrown 
round  her  neck  and  Dorothy's  soft,  peachy  pink  cheek 
was  nestling  against  her  own,  while  the  sweet  young 
yoice  whispered:  ,  -t< 

"Won't  you  breathe  it,  Jess,  if  I  tell  you  the  great 
est  secret  in  the  whole  wide  world  ?  Promise  on  your  j 
word  and  honor  that  you  won't  and  I'll  tell  you,  and  I 
it  will  fairly  make  you  hold  your  breath.     It's  just  I 
like  those  grand  love  stories  all  of  us  girls  like  to 
crowd  around  together  at  lunch  hour  and   read  in 
the  Fireside  Companion,  when  we  pick  up  the  special 
copies  they  throw  around ;  only  this  is  in  real  life,  you 
know.'' 

"I  promise/'  returned  Jessie  Staples,  gravely;  "only 
I  hope  this  isn't  a  ruse  to  turn  off  the  question  about 
the  young  car  conductor  whom  I  saw  you  with." 

"Oh,  no !  the  secret  is  about  him,"  laughed  Dorothy, 
gleefully,  "and  it  will  make  you  open  your  eyes  wider 
than  they  are  now  when  you  hear  it;  and  it's  so  dread 
fully  romantic,  too.  You  know  how  Nadine  Holt  has 
been  boasting  of  late  about  the  handsome  new  conduc 
tor  on  the  Broadway  car,  on  whom  she  has  'made  a 
mash/  as  she  phrases  it.  Well,  the  young  man  you 
saw  me  talking  to — is  he." 

"What?"  gasped  Jessie.  "Do  you  mean  it  was  Na- 
cline's  beau  to  whom  you  were  talking?" 

"He's  not  her  beau!"  declared  Dorothy,  flushing  ifp 
redly  and  angrily.  "He  doesn't  care  a  snap  of  his 
finger  for  Nadine.  He  told  me  so." 

"He — told — you — so?"  repeated  Jessie  Staples,  too 
amazed  at  the  instant  to  frame  any  other  remark, 
(while  the  thought  flashed  through  her  brain  how 


PRETTY    MADCAP    DOROTHY  9 

'deeply  Nadine  Holt  loved  this  handsome  young  man, 
and  that  she  was  confident  of  a  proposal  of  marriage 
from  him  sooner  or  later.  She  had  often  told  Jessie 
as  much  as  that  of  late. 

"It  was  only  last  week  that  I  first  met  him,"  Doro 
thy  went  on,  "and  it  happened  in  this  way:  I  came 
j  down,  just  by  chance,  on  his  car,  and — and  I  noticed 
j  that  he  looked  at  me  rather  admiringly,  as  he  changed 
my  fifty-cent  piece,  while  standing  beside  me ;  and — 
ana  I  noticed,  too,  that  he  leaned  against  me  a  little 
more  than  the  occasion  demanded,  or  at  least  I  fancied 
so ;  but  perhaps  it  was  the  jolting  of  the  car.  I  took 
little  shy  peeps  at  him.  I  wanted  to  see  what  he  looked 
like,  Nadine  had  been  sounding  his  praises  so.  I 
found  he  was  dreadfully  nice,  quite  the  handsomest 
young  fellow  I  had  ever  seen — elegantly  formed, 
straight  as  an  arrow,  with  such  a  beautiful  dark  mus 
tache,  dark  hair,  and  laughing  black  eyes,  and  the 
whitest  of  white  hands.  When  he  helped  me  off  the 
car  he  held  my  hand  so  tightly  and  so  long  that  I  felt 
terribly  embarrassed  and  did  not  know  what  to  do  or 
say.  But,  oh!  he  was  so  polite!  I  dropped  my  eyes 
(  and  never  looked  at  him  as  I  stepped  off.  How  I  ever 
!  got  into  the  other  car  I  never  knew.  A  moment  later 
the  other  conductor  came  around  for  my  fare,  and 
then — oh,  horrors!  I  could  not  find  my  pocket-book, 
I  searched  frantically  in  every  pocket.  'I — I  must  have 
lost  my  purse/  I  faltered,  beginning  to  cry,  for  I  saw 
he  did  not  believe  me,  and  thought  that  I  meant  to 
beat  my  way,  as  they  call  it,  when  just  at  that  instant 
puffing  and  panting,  up  came  the  other  conductor — the 
handsome  fellow  whom  I  had  just  left. 

"  'You  dropped  your  purse  on  the  seat  of  my  car,' 


30  PRETTY    MADCAP   DOROTHY 

&e  said,  raising  his  hat  from  his  dark  curls.     'Per- 
ti'.it  me  to  return  it  to  you/ 

"I  was  so  overjoyed  to  get  it  that  I  forgot  to  thank 
h'n.    I  remembered  later  that  I  had  not  done  so.   And, 
*  'iat  do  you  think?  that  very  evening  he  called' with | 
a  book  I  had  also  left  on  the  seat,  and  which  I  had  | 
entirely  forgotten.    My  name  and  address  were  writ-*  | 
ten  on  the  fly-leaf.    Just  at  that  moment  one  of  the 
young  men    from  the  book-bindery   happened  along 
who  knew  him,  and  he  introduced  us.    I  did  not  invite 
him  in,  but  we  stood  and  talked  for  an  hour  or  more 
on  the  steps,  and  he  asked  at  length  for  the  pleasure 
of  my  company  to  go  with  him  to  the  theater  the  fol 
lowing  evening,  if  my  folks  were  willing. 

"I  told  him  I  had  no  relatives  to  consult,  and  that 
I'd  like  ever  so  much  to  go,  but — but  I  had  heard  that 
he  was  Nadine  Holt's  regular  company.  Oh,  Jess, 
how  angry  he  got  when  I  said  that !  He  flushed  to  the 
very  roots  of  his  dark  hair.  You  ought  to  have  seen 
liim. 

"  'Pardon  me,  but  I  am  not!'  he  replied,  'though* 
I  hear  that  she  is  circulating  such  a  story ;  but  there 
is  no  better  authority  on  the  subject  than  myself.     I 
have  spoken  to  her  a  few  times ;  but  it  is  ridiculous  * 
for  a  girl  to  presume,  if  a  man  is  pleasant  to  her,  that  j 
he  wants  to  marry  her.     I  cannot  even  say  that  I  ad-  i 
mire  Miss  Nadine  Holt.    As  a  rule  a  man  like  myself 
'does  not  admire  a  girl  whose  acquaintance  he  can 
form  through  a  handkerchief  flirtation. 

"I  thought  of  telling  Nadine  that,  but  you  know 
what  a  fury  she  is.  Why,  she  would  almost  kill  me, 
I  believe,  if  she  once  got  an  inkling  that  I  knew  about 
it. 


PRETTY    MADCAP   DOROTHY  1'f 

"Well,  to  make  a  long  story  short,  it  so  chanced 
that  he  happened  along  our  street  every  night  after 
that,  and  always  found  me,  quite  by  chance,  sitting 
out  ©n  the  steps,  and  so  he  stopped  for  a  chat.  And 
now  comes  the  most  wonderful  part  of  the  affair.  He 
is  no  real  street-car  conductor  at  all,  I  don't  mean 
just  that,  but — oh,  Jess !  this  is  what  I  mean :  he — he 
bet  with  a  number  of  young  gentlemen  the  last  election 
and  lost  the  wager.  If  he  lost  he  was  to  come  to  New:. 
York  and  be  a  street-car  conductor  for  three  months, 
and  that  is  what  he  did.  He  is  a  young  lawyer  in  a 
small  town  near  here,  and  has  great  expectations,  he 
says. 

"His  time  will  be  up  to-morrow,  Jessie,  and  then 
he  is  going  back  to  his  home,  and — and  I  shall  never 
see  him  again.  He  is  like  a  prince  in  disguise— such 
as  we  read  about.  I  always  thought  him  too  grand 
and  polite  to  be  only  a  street-car  conductor." 

Jessie  Staples  felt  greatly  relieved  in  her  heart  that 
he  was  going  away  so  soon,  but  she  was  too  wise  to 
say  so  to  Dorothy,  knowing  that  if  one  attempts  to 
break  up  an  infatuation  on  the  part  of  a  girl  of  that 
age,  ten  to  one  it  makes  matters  only  worse. 

"Life  will  never  be  the  same  to  me  after  Harry 
Langden  goes,  for,  Jessie,  I — I  have  learned  to  care 
for  him.  I  couldn't  help  myself  though  I  tried  hard 
not  to,  and  to  be  gay  and  jolly  before  all  the  girls. 
'Bur,  oh,  Jessie,  pity  me!  My  heart  is  breaking!  S 
wish  I  could  die !" 

They  did  not  notice,  as  they  moved  on,  that  the 
Soor  near  where  they  had  stood  talking  was  partly 
ajar,  nor  did  they  see  the  girl  who  had  paused  in 
the  entry  outside  almost  at  the  very  beginning  of  their 


r!2  PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY 

* 

conversation.  It  was  Nadine  Holt,  and  she  had  heard 
every  word,  from  beginning  to  end,  that  Dorothy  had 
uttered;  and  even  after  they  had  passed  on  she  stood 
there,  cold  and  motionless  as  a  statue  cut  in  marble. 
" Great  God  in  heaven!  this  explains  Harry  Larig- 
dori's  sudden  coolness/7  she  muttered,  with  a  great, 
choking  sob;  "but  if  Dorothy  Glenn  attempts  to  take 
my  lover  from  me — let  her  beware !  this  earth  will 
not  be  broad  enough  to  hold  the  two  of  us.  It  will 
be  war  to  the  very  death  between  us,  and  we  shall 
see  which  one  of  us  shall  win  him  I" 
j  By  a  violent  effort  Nadine  controlled  her  wild  grief 
and  passed  into  the  work-room.  It  was  only  her  in 
domitable  pride  that  kept  her  from  taking  her  hat  and  ' 
sacque  and  going  straight  home  and  to  her  bed,  there 
to  weep  her  very  heart  out — aye,  weep  her  very  life 
out,  if  she  could.  If  her  lover  was  fickle,  Nadine  told 
iherself  that  she  did  not  care  to  live  and  face  the  dull, 
cold  world,  for  what  is  life  and  the  world  to  a  young- 
girl  if  the  lover  on  whom  she  has  set  her  heart  and 
her  hopes  proves  false  to  her? 


CHAPTER  IT. 


From  the  moment  that  Nadine  Holt  heard  the  story,  \ 
of  the  perfidy  of  her  lover  she  was  a  changed  being1. 

She  went  wearily  enough  to  the  lodging-house  she 
called  home,  and  paced  the  floor  up  and  down  the  live* 
long  night. 

"He  was  pleased  enough  with  me  before  Dorothy 
Glenn's  pirik-and-white  baby  face  came  between  us.5* 


PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY  13 

she  moaned,  clinching  her  hands  tightly  together  and 
bursting  ever  and  anon  into  a  flood  of  tears.  i  * 

She  looked  around  at  the  little,  stuffy  room,  and ' 
i  thought  of  all  her  girlish  day-dreams — of  the  sweet 
I  hopes  she  had  had  of  soon  leaving  those  dingy  four 
.walls,  and  of  having  a  little  bower  of  a  cottage  to 
call  "home,"  with  a  handsome  young  husband  all  her 
own  to  love  her.  >  i 

She  had  pictured  every  scene  to  herself — just  how 
each  cozy  room  should  be  furnished,  and  what  vines 
and  flowers  should  grow  in  the  garden,  and  the  pretty 
dresses  she  would  wear,  and  how  she  would  stand 
at  the  window  and  watch  for  handsome  Harry  to 
tome  home  each  night,  and  what  a  dear,  cozy  life  they; 
would  lead,  loving  each  other  so  dearly. 

And  now  what  of  those  vanished  day-dreams  ?  Ah ! 
<God  in  heaven  pity  her !  they  lay  in  ruins  around  her, 
and  heart-wrecked,  heart-broken,  she  was  facing  the 
cold,  bleak  world  again.  i  ( 

It  had  been  by   the  greatest  effort  that  she  had  , 
looked  in  Dorothy's  face  during  the  day  that  followed  '; 
without  betraying  her  bitter  hatred  of  her;  but  as  the 
hours  crept  on,  and  she  saw  Dorothy's  glance  wander  !' 
uneasily  now  and  then  toward  the  clock,  her  intense 
rage  grew  almost  uncontrollable.  '  i 

"She  is  longing  for  the  hours  to  pass,  so  that  she 
may  join  him,"  thought  Nadine,  and  her  black  eyes 
fajr.Iy  scintillated  at  the  thought. 

Suddenly  Dorothy  raised  her  curly  head  from  he? 
work.  )  i 

"Girls!"  she  exclaimed,  shrilly  and  eagerly,  "have 
you  all  forgotten  that  Monday  is  Labor  Day?    What , 
are  you  going  to  cTo  with  yourselves  ?" 


04  PRETTY    MADCAP   DOROTHY 

A  score  or  more  of  voices  answered  at  random  that 
they  thought  it. had  been  decided  long  since  that -thej» 
•were  all  going  up  the  Hudson  on  an  excursion. 

"I  can't  go  on  the  excursion  with  you,  girls," -re* 
turned  Dorothy,  "for  I've  got  another  engagement." 

"Bring  your  company  with  you/7  chorused  a  dozen 
or  more  of  the  girls. 

Dorothy  glanced  up  hastily  and  met  Nadine's  bura? 
ing  eyes  fixed  intently  upon  her. 

She  started,  turned  deathly  pale,  and  then  turned 
'defiantly  away,  wondering  if  Nadine  could  by  any 
means  suspect  that  the  engagement  she  had  was  to  ao 
company  handsome  Harry  Langdon  to  the  matinee. 

She  wondered  vaguely  if  Jessie,  to  whom  she  had 
confided  this,  had  betrayed  hen 

The  look  in  Nadine  Holt's  eyes  as  they  met  he* 
own  startled  her. 

,  The  bell  which  released  the  girls  from  the  work* 
room  that  night  had  scarcely  rung  ere  Dorothy  had 
on  her  sacque  and  sailor  hat  and  was  fairly  flying 
down  the  steps  and  out  into  the  street. 

"I  hope  to  goodness  that  I  shall  escape  Jack  to-> 
night!"  she  muttered.  "He  can  not  get  out  as  soon 
as  I  do,  and  I  will  be  almost  home  while  he  is  wait* 
ing  for  me  at  the  bottom  of  the  stairs;"  and  a  little, 
light,  airy  laugh  bubbled  from  her  red  lips. 

Jack,  as  she  called  him,  was  one  of  the  gilders  in 
the  book-bindery— a  tall,  handsome,  manly  young' 
'fellow  of  four-and-twenty,  wrhose  only  failing  was 
that  he  loved  little  Dorothy  Glenn  to  distraction. 

"Yes,  I  shall  escape  Jack,  sure,  to-night!"  laughed 
Dorothy  again, 
i    But  the  laugh  died  from  her  lips,  for  at  that  in* 


PRETTY   MADCAP  DOROTHY  15 

stant  there  was  the  sound  of  hurried  footsteps  be 
hind  her— footsteps  she  knew  but  too  well — and  the 
next  instant  Jack  Garner  stood  beside  her. 

"Dorothy!"  he  panted.    "Why  didn't  you  wait  for 
me,  little  girl?" 
:.    Dorothy  started  guiltily. 

!•  "Why,  gracious!  is  it  you,  Jack?"  she  cried.  "I 
certainly  thought  you  had  gone  home  long  ago,  and 
SO  I  hurried  away." 

His  handsome  face  brightened;  the  dark  shadow: 
Svas  quickly  dispelled  from  his  earnest,  brown  eyes. 
;  "Do  }'ou  know,  Dorothy,"  he  said,  "I  was  half 
afraid  that  you  had  run  away  from  me  intentionally ; 
and  yet  I  could  hardly  bring  myself  to  believe  it,  the 
thought  gave  me  such  a  sharp  pang  of  pain  at  the* 
heart."  The  girl  laughed  a  little  nervously. 

"I  wanted  to  talk  to  you  about  Labor  Day,"  he 
said  earnestly;  "but  I  fear  what  I  have  to  say  will 
grieve  you,  dear."  ("Oh,  gracious  goodness,  that's 
Just  what  I  expected!"  was  tHe  thought  that  flashed 
through  her  guilty  little  brain.)  "Dorothy,"  he  said, 
huskily,  "I'm  afraid  that  I  will  not  be  able  to  get 
off  Labor  Day,  although  it  is  a  legal  holiday  and  I 
had  set  my  heart  upon  taking  you  somewhere.  Wo 
Rave  found  that  there  is  some  work  which  must  be  got 
out,  or  it  will  mean  a  heavy  loss  to  our  employers, 
I  was  the  only  one  whom  they  felt  .they  could  call 
upon  to  help  them  in  their  dilemma,  and  I  could  nofi 
refuse  them,  even  though  a  vision  of  your  pretty,  dis 
appointed  face  rose  up  before  my  mind's  eye.  I  knew} 
you  would  be  expecting  me  to  take  you  somewhere 
on  Labor  Day.  Oh !  Dorothy,  how  can  I  make  amends 


26  PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY 

|.   To  his  great  surprise,  she  laughed  gayly. 

"Don't  trouble  yourself  about  me,  Jack,"  she  ex 
claimed.  "I  won't  mind  it  one  bit ;"  and  her  pink-* 
arid-white  face  fairly  dimpled  over  with  smiles. 

He  opened  his  brown  eyes  wide  and  looked  at  her 
in  surprise,  remembering  quite  well  that  for  many 
a  week  past  Dorothy  had  been  looking  forward  to  this 
holiday  and  calculating  how  she  should  spend  it, 

'But  you  will  be  so  disappointed,  little  one/'  he 
reiterated,  earnestly,  and  not  a  little  puzzled  by  the 
way  she  took  it.  .  ! 

Again  she  laughed — a  little,  light,  airy  laugh  that 
somehow  grated  on  his  nerves. 

"I  was  thinking,"  he  continued,  "that  perhaps  you 
\vould  like  to  go  somewhere  with  my  cousin  Barbara — . 
go  up  the  river,  or  to  a  matinee,  or  some  place  like 
that.  I  would  pay  all  the  bills,  of  course,  and — " 

"Go  with  your  cousin  Barbara?"  she  cut  in.  "No, 
I  guess  not.  It's  just  like  you  not  to  want  me  to 
have  a  good  time.  If  you  can't  be  there,  Jaclc 
Garner,  pray  excuse  me  from  going  with  1/ierl" 

He  looked  down  at  her  with  grieved  eyes. 

"Barbara  is  not  as  young  and  gay  as  you  are,  I* 
know,  dear,"  he  said,  huskily;  "but,  oh!  if  you  only 
knew  what  a  good,  gentle  soul  she  is,  and  how  kind 
her  heart  is !  She  would  go  out  of  her  way — do  any 
thing  she  could  to  give  you  a  few  hours'  pleasure, 
because — because  she  knows  how  dear  you  are  to 
me."  l 

Dorothy  shrugged  her  shoulders  and  curled  hen 
pretty  red  lips  scornfully.  Barbara  Hallenbeck,  his 
•quiet,  sedate  cousin,  was  four-and-twenty.  No-wondeu 


PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY  17s 

that  gay  little  Dorothy  did  not  consider  Her  quite 
companionable  for  a  day's  outing. 
I*  "She  would  be  very  glad  to  take  you  to  the  matinee, 
Dorothy/'  he  persisted.  "Do  consent  to  go  with  her, 
and  then  I  will  feel  quite  happy,  for  I  shall  feel  sure 
that  you  are  having  a  pleasant  day,  even  if  I  am  not 
with  you.  Otherwise,  I  should  be  so  troubled,  think 
ing  of  you  sitting  all  alone  in  the  house." 

She  looked  up  innocently  into  his  face. 

"I  need  not  stay  in  the  house  if  I  do  not  like,"  she 
retorted.  "  There's  a  number  of  girls  from  the 
bindery  going  on  an  excursion  up  the  river,  and  they 
have  invited  me." 

Poor,  innocent  Jack!  it  did  not  occur  to  him  then 
that,  although  she  had  remarked  she  was  invited,  she 
had  not  said  she  was  going.  He  jumped  at  con 
clusions  readily  enough. 

"I  am  so  glad,  Dorothy!"  he  exclaimed,  joyfully. 
"I  know  if  you  are  with  a  crowd  of  the  girls  the  day 
•will  pass  pleasantly  for  you.  But  you  will  not  for 
get  in  the  midst  of  all  your  happiness  to  give  a  thought 
to  me,  will  you?"  he  whispered,  with  a  world  of  tea* 
derness  in  his  voice. 
j,  "Of  course  not,"  she  said,  promptly. 

"Especially  when  your  eye  rests  upon  our  betrothal- 
ring/'  he  added,  wistfully. 

I       Dorothy   blushed    alarmingly    red,    then    paled    as 
jquickly,  at  the  mention  of  the  ring. 

The  truth  may  as  well  be  told  here  and  now: 
'Dorothy,  like  many  another  silly,  thoughtless  voung1 
girl,  had  drifted  into  an  engagement  with  Jack  just 
to  get  the  ring-  which  he  wore  on  his  finger4  which 


I    18  PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY 

she  had  admired  with  all  her  heart  and  longed  to 

possess.  a 

i  But  with  Dorothy,  possession  had  dimmed  her  ap 
preciation  for  the  little  turquois  and  pearl  affair 
which  adorned  her  finger,  and  at  which  handsome 
(Barry  Langdon  had  glanced  so  contemptuously  only 
the  evening  before,  and  then  down  at  the  elegant  mon- 
ogrammed  diamond  ring  which  glistened  on  his  own 
white,  shapely  hand* 

Only  that  very  day  Dorothy  had  wished  with  all 
her  heart  that  she  could  get  up  some  excuse  to  break 
[what  Jack  considered  an  engagement,  and  give  him 
'back  his  little  cheap  pearl  and  turquois  ring;  but  the 
occasion  did  not  seem  to  be  quite  ripe,  and  Jack,  poor 
fellow !  had  been  kinder  to  her  than  ever  that  day. 

At  the  corner  she  hesitated.  It  would  never  do  to 
Iwalk  much  farther  with  Jack  and  stand  a  chance  o£ 
meeting  handsome  Harry  Langdon,  she  told  herself. 
i  "I  have  a  little  shopping  to  do,  and  I  shall  have  to 
leave  you  here,"  she  said,  hastily;  and  she  made  her 
parting  very  brief  with  Jack. 

He  noticed  it,  and  a  sudden  fear  stirred  his  heart. 
iHe  looked  after  the  slender  figure  flitting  away 
through  the  slanting  sunshine,  with  his  soul  in  his 
eyes. 

"She  is  so  dear  to  me,"  he  murmured.  "I — I  often 
think  I  would  go  mad  if  I  were  to  lose  her." 
1  He  walked  slowly  down  the  street,  but,  contrary  to 
ihis  usual  custom,  he  did  not  turn  his  footsteps  home- 
rward,  but  proceeded  aimlessly  along  the  crowded 
thoroughfare. 

How  far  he  went  Jack  Garner  never  knew.  Sud 
denly  in  turning  a  corner  the  first  object  his  eyes  feU 


PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY 

upon  was  Dorothy,  and  by  her  -side  a  tall,  handsome 
dark-eyed  young  man  whose  arm  was  linked  with -hers* 
and  they  were  walking  along,  deeply  engaged  in  con 
versation,  oblivious  to  the  whole  world. 

He  stood  quite  still;  the  heart  in  his  bosom  seemed1 
to  almost  tear  itself  asunder  with  one  mighty  throb« 
iWas  it  Dorothy,  or  did  his  eyes  deceive  him?  He 
quickened  his  pace  until  he  stood  beside  them.  The 
impulse  was  strong  within  him  to  seize  the  girl's  hand 
and  tear  her  from  her  companion.  The  blood  surged 
like  fire  through  his  veins. 

But  before  he  could  put  his  mad  thought  into  ex 
ecution  the  crowd  on  the  thronged  thoroughfare  sweptj 
between  them. 

In  that  instant  Dorothy's  companion  called  a  cab 
and  placed  the  girl  in  it.  The  door  closed  with  a 
bang,  and.  the  next  instant  the  vehicle  was  whirling 
down  the  avenue,  and  turning  around  the  first  corner 
was  instantly  lost  to  sight. 

Quick  as  the  lightning's  flash  Jack  leaped  upon  a 
passing  car.  He  felt  intuitively  that  the  stranger  was 
taking  Dorothy  to  her  home.  This  car  would  pass 
the  door.  He  would  confront  them  there,  even  thougri 
they  had  gone  by  another  street. 

By  a  strange  fatality  he  had  in  his  breast  pocket  a) 
small  revolver  which  a  friend  had  asked  him  to  call  foe 
that  day  at  a  store  where  it  was  being  repaired,  and 
bring  to  him,  as  Jack  would  be  passing  that  way.  It 
was  an  unlucky  moment  for  Jack,  Heaven  knows* 
when  he  consented  to  call  for  the  fatal  revolver  fon 
his  friend. 

As  his  hand  touched  it  in  his  breast  pocket 
rible  thought  flashed  across  his  excited  brain. 


20  PRETTY   MADCAP  DOROTHY 

Ten  minutes  later  he  reached  the  cottage  where 
Dorothy  boarded.  One  of  the  bindery  girls  was  sit 
ting  on  the  porch  as  lie  came  up.  ,  ,  ;  J 

" Why,  hello,  Jack!"  she  cried.  "What  are  yoi 
doing  here?"  ! 

"Where's  Dorothy?"  he  interrupted,  quickly.     "Is 
she  in  the  house  yet?    I  want  the  truth.    You  must  : 
tell  me!" 

The  girl  looked  in  Jack's  face,  and  dared  not  tell!  I 
him  all. 


CHAPTER  III. 

Jessie  Staples  —  for  it  was  she  —  looked  at  Jade 
Garner  with  troubled  eyes.  She  knew  how  much  he 
cared  for  Dorothy,  and  she  realized  that  it  would 
never  do  to  tell  him  that  his  fickle  sweetheart  had  gone 
riding  with  another  man.  He  was  hot-tempered,  and 
in  jealousy  there  is  little  reason.  Like  the  wise  girt 
that  she  was,  Jessie  made  excuses  for  her  friend.  i 

"No,  Dorotky  is  not  here,  Jack,"  she  said,  pres 
ently;  "but  I  feel  sure  she  would  have  been  had  she 
known  you  were  coming.  She  has  gone  to  spend  the 
evening-  with  one  of  the  girls,  who  sent  her  lover 
specially  to  bring  Dorothy  over,  with  the  request 
that  he  was  not  to  come  back  without  her;  and  no 
doubt  Dorothy  will  pass  Sunday  with  her." 

"Which  one  of  the  girls  is  it?"  he  inquired. 

"I   don't   really  know   that,"   said   Jessie,   a   little 


f 


idenly  in    Garner  Grew  a  great,  long  breath  &f  r 


PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY  21' 

h. 

and  the  old  happy  smile  lighted  up  his  face  in  an  in 
stant. 

|     What  a  foolish  fellow  he  had  been  to  mistrust  Doro- 

i  thy!  he  told  himself.     But,  after  all,  he  was  glad  he 

.  Jiad  come  and  seen  Jessie  and  thus  had  the  horrible 

;  <doubt  removed  from  his  mind. 

I     "Well,  it  does  not  matter  so  much,  p*,ss,  that  I  did 
not  see  her.     I  did  not  want  anything  in  particular. 
I  am  glad  she  will  have  a  pleasant  time  this  evening 
and  to-morrow.    And   about  your  holiday.     I   sup 
pose  you  will  be  going  on  the  excursion  with  the  rest- 
of  the  girls  on  Monday  ?" 
;    "Oh,  yes!"  replied  Jessie  lightly  but  constrainedly. 

jj     He  drew  nearer  and  looked  wistfully  into  her  face. 

1  "I  can  not  go,  unfortunately,"  he  said,  "but  I  hope, 
Jess,  that  you  will  see  that  Dorothy  has  as  good  a 
time  as  the  rest  of  the  girls."  He  stopped  a  moment, 
and  looked  down  confusedly,  as  if  at  a  loss  to  know 
how  to  proceed  with  the  rest  of  his  sentence,  but  con 
cluded  at  length  to  break  right  into  it  boldly.  "If  I 
were  there  I  would  treat  all  you  girls  to  as  much  ice 
cream  as  you  could  eat,"  he  went  on  with  a  laugh. 
"But,  seeing  that  I  am  not  to  be  one  of  the  party,  I 
•want  you  to  do  the  honors  for  me,  Jess,  and  here's 
the  money  to  pay  for  it,  with  my  compliments  to 
the  crowd." 

<  'Arid  as  he  spoke  he  drew  a  crisp  bill  from  his  vest 
pocket  and  thrust  it  into  Jessie's  hand. 

"Oh,  Jack,"  cried  the  girl,  "you  are  too  good  and 
too  kind!"  and  she  felt  rather  guilty  as  she  took  it, 
for  she  knew  that  he  was  giving  it  solely  that  they 
would  make  it  pleasant  for  pretty  little  Dorothy, 
sne  knew  that  Dorothy  was  not  to  be  there. 


122  PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY 

Only  that  day  she  had  confessed  to  her  that  she  had) 
snade  an  engagement  to  go  to  the  matinee  with  the 
handsome  car  conductor. 

But  there  would  be  a  tragedy  if  Jack  got  an  ink-, 
fing  of  this,  she  well  knew.  She  had  deceived  him,  f 
poor  fellow ;  but  was  it  not  for  the  best,  under  the  cir-  \ 
cumstances  ? 

Jack  went  to  his  home  with  a  light  heart,  and  much' 
relieved  in  feelings.  It  was  well  for  him  that  he  did 
not  know  just  how  Dorothy  was  passing  those  very; 
moments. 

When  Harry  Langdon  had  met  Dorothy  on  the 
street  that  afternoon  he  had  quite  hoped  to  slip  by  her 
•unnoticed.  Not  that  he  was  displeased  to  see  her; 
but  the  girl  was  dressed  so  cheaply,  and,  to  make 
matters  worse,  she  carried  her  little  dinner-basket  on 
her  arm,  and  he  knew  that  if  any  of  his  friends  were 
to  see  him  they  would  smile  in  derision,  for  they  could 
not  help  knowing  by  the  dinner-basket  that  his  com 
panion  was  a  working-girl. 

His  pride  was  the  one  fault  of  his  life.  He  felt 
that  he  was  quite  handsome  enough  to  woo  and  win 
an  heiress,  if  one  chanced  in  his  way.  In  fact,  that 
was  what  he  was  looking  for.  f 

It  would  never  do  to  be  seen  walking*  along  the ' 
streets  with  this  pretty  little  working-girl,  and  it  was 
for  this  very  reason  that  Langdon  had  called  a  cab 
to  take  her  home. 

"The  ride  is  too  short,"  he  said,  as  they  reached  the 
cottage  where  Dorothy  lived,  and  where  Jessie  Staples 
was  awaiting  her  on  the  porch.  "Let  us  go  around  a 
few  blocks ;  I  want  to  talk  to  you  about  the  arrange 
ments  for  the  outing." 


PRETTY    MADCAP    DOROTHY  23 

Nothing  loath,  Dorothy  consented,  and  away  they- 
whirled  down  the  street;  and  it  was  very  fortunate 
too,  for  in  less  than  three  minutes  later  Jack  had  ap- 

j  peared  at  the  cottage. 

j  "I  have  been  wondering  if  you  really  cared  to  go 
to  the  matinee  on  Labor  Day,r  said  Langdon,  in  his 
low,  sweet,  smooth  voice,  which  had  never  yet  failed 
to  capture  the  hearts  of  susceptible  young  girls.  "I 
was  wondering  if  you  would  not  prefer  a  sail  up  the 
river.  I  understand  that  there  is  to  be  quite  an  ex 
cursion  to  West  Point." 

The  truth  is  Langdon  had  just  discovered  that -sev 
eral  of  his  acquaintances  were  to  be  at  the  matinee 
on  that  day,  and  he  regretted  that  he  had  invited 
Dorothy  to  go,  realizing  how  terribly  ashamed  he 
would  be  of  the  shabby  clothes  of  the  girl  whose 
only  recommendation  was  her  pretty  young  face,  and 
he  had  determined  that  he  should  not  take  Dorothy, 
to  that  matinee,  at  any  cost. 

"Whv,  I  would  just  as  soon  go  to  the  excursion  as 
to  the  matinee,"  declared  Dorothy;  "but  there's  one 
objection — all  the  rest  of  the  girls  in  the  book-bindery 

^  are  going  up  on  the  boat  to  West  Point,  and  among 

I  them  Nadine  Holt." 

i  Langdon  smothered  back  a  fierce  imprecation  be-* 
hind  his  silky  curled  mustache. 

i  "Then  we  will  abandon  the  West  Point  trip,"  he 
said,  laughingly.  "But  we  can  go  to  Staten  Island, 
besides,  I  think  it  will  be  quite  as  enjoyable,  for,  now 
that  I  think  of  it,  there  will  be  an  immense  Crowd 
there.  The  picnic  grounds  are  to  be  thrown  open  to 
-the  public,  and  they  are  to  have  a  grand  garden  fete, 
dancing  and  so  forth." 


'24  PRETTY  MADCAP  DOROTHY 

."Oh,  1  should  enjoy  that  more  than  I  could  tell 
you!"  cried  Dorothy,  clapping  her  hands,  her  blue 
eyes   expanding  wide   with   expectancy.      "I   adore 
dancing,  and  I  was  never  at  a  garden-party  in  all  my  „ 
life,  and  I  have  read  so  much  about  them." 

"We  can  remain   all   the  afternoon  and  evening,  f 
have    refreshments,    and    then    come    home    on    the  \ 
steamer.     It  will  be  a  beautiful  moonlight  night,  and 
when  the  band  plays  on  the  deck  you  will  enjoy  it 
hugely,  Dorothy." 

The  girl's  eyes  sparkled  and  her  cheeks  glowed. 

Soon  afterward  the  cab  stopped  before  Dorothy's 
cottage  agaki,  and,  with  a  shy,  sweet  smile,  she  bade 
her  admirer  ''good-night,"  and  flitted  up  the  steps  and 
into  the  hall,  and  directly  into  the  arms  of  Jessie 
Staples,  who  was  awaiting  her  there. 

"Oh,  Dorothy!"  she  began,  reproachfully,  "how: 
could  you  do  it?" 

"Do  what?"  cried  Dorothy,  with  a  very  innocent 
air. 

"Come  riding  home  from  work  with  that  stranger !" 
cried  Jessie,  reproachfully. 

The  gayest  laugh  that  ever  was  heard  broke  from 
Dorothy's  ripe  red  lips,  and  her  blue  eyes  fairly 
'danced. 

"I  did  not  think  that  you,  of  all  other  girls,  would 
be  jealous,  Jessie  Staples !"  she  declared. 

"I  am  not  jealous,"  responded  the  girl,  quietly — •  } 
"only  I  pity  you  for  your  want  of  sense  in  being 
fascinated  by  a  handsome  stranger,  when  you  have 
such  a  lover  as  honest,  warm-hearted  Jack  Garner, 
who  fairly  worships  the  ground  you  walk  on.  Every 
oae  knows  that — and — and  pities  him/' 


PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY  25 

Dorothy's  red  lips  curled  scornfully,  and  she  turned 
away  on  her  heel.  ' 

"He  is  only  a  gilder  in  the  bindery/'  she  declared, 
"while  the  one  I  came  home  with  is  a  grand  high- 
toned,  wealthy  young  feUow,  and  so  aristocratic.  He 
thought  nothing  of  bringing  me  home  in  a  cab,  while 
Jack  Garner  would  have  fainted  at  the  idea.  He  is 
so  frightened  if  lie  spends  a  dollar  of  his  hard-earned 
wages.  It's  no  fun  going  around  with  a  poor  fellow. 
I  hate  them !  So  there !" 

With  that  Jessie  took  the  bill  from  her  pocket,  and 
told  all  that  poor  Jack  had  said  about  treating  to  the 
ice-cream. 

•     Dorothy  looked  astounded,  but  turned  the  matter 
off  by  saying : 

"It  is  a  good  thing  to  have  him  stand  treat  once 
in  his  life-time,  I  declare !" 

But,  nevertheless,  she  felt  ashamed  deep  down  in 
her  own  heart  for  the  way  she  had  spoken  of  poor 
Jack.  Still  she  would  not  listen  to  Jessie's  admoni 
tion,  declaring,  too,  that  she  meant  to  go  on  an  ex 
cursion  on  Labor  Day  with  Harry  Langdon,  evert 
though  it  made  an  enemy  of  Jack  for  life.  She  was 
tired  of  Jack,  anyhow. 

"You  will  rue  it  if  you  go  with  that  stranger. 
Trouble  will  come  of  it  as  sure  as  you  live."  Those 
were  Jessie's  last  words  to  Dorothy  as  they  parted 
an  hour  later,  and  they  rang  in  Dorothy's  brain  for 
many  and  many  a  long  day  afterward ;  and  these  twa 
girls,  who  had  been  such  steadfast  friends  pavted 
from  each  other  in  coldness  and  in  anger  for  the  fi\^t 
time  in  their  lives. 

The   sun  rose  bright  and  golden  on  the  eventful 


'26  PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY 

morning,  and  Dorothy  was  in  high  glee  as  she  looked 
out  from  her  curtained  window,  and  the  visions  of  (1 
joyous  day  flitted  before  her. 

At  two  o'clock  Langdon  put  in  a  prompt  appear*  ^ 
ance,  and  Dorothy  was  quite  ready,  and  he  could  not 
help  but  own  to  himself  that  she  looked  as  fair  and 
pretty  and  quite  as  stylish  as  any  young  girl  you 
would  meet  in  a  day's  travel  in  her  neat  navy-blue 
merino  dress,  with  its  white  duck  vest  and  broad, 
white  cuffs  and  sailor  collar,  and  the  white  sailor  hat, 
with  the  white  silk  band  about  it  to  match.  And 
nothing  could  have  been  more  dainty  than  her  neat 
kid  boots  and  gloves.  I 

Langdon  raised  his  hat  to  this  fair  young  vision  o£ 
loveliness  with  all  the  gallantry  he  was  capable  of, 
and  away  they  went  in  high  spirits  and  high  glee,  and 
with  never  a  thought  in  Dorothy's  heart  of  poor  Jack 
toiling  at  that  moment  in  the  book-bindery. 

It  was  a  delightful  sail  down  the  bay,  and  when 
they  arrived  at  their  destination  they  found  the  island 
thronged  with  a  merry  group  of  pleasure  seekers. 

The  hours  flew  by  on  golden  wings.  Dusk  gath 
ered.  Night  soon  drew  her  sable  curtains,  and  pinned 
them  with  a  star. 

They  dined  sumptuously  at  the  Hotel  Castleton,  and 
then  went  back  to  the  picnic  grounds,  which  were 
ablaze  with  light  and  color,  resounding  to  the  merry; 
strains  of  music,  the  babble  of  gay  voices  and  joyous 
laughter,  and  the  sound  of  feet  keeping  5:tep  in  the 
dance. 

Never  had  Dorothy  enjoyed  herself  so  well.  Harry; 
Langdon  was  the  prince  of  escorts.  He  knew  how  to 
make  himself  agreeable  and  entertaining.  He  whis-« 


PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY  27 

pered  tender  words  into  his  companion's  ears,  held  her 
little  hand,  and  conveyed  to  her  in  a  thousand  dif 
ferent  ways  that  this  was  the  happiest  day  of  his  life, 
because  she  was  by  his  side. 

At  length  the  hour  drew  near  for  the  picknickers  to 
leave  the  grounds,  for  the  boat  had  already  steamed 
into  the  dock.  In  twenty  minutes'  time  she  was  to 
start  back  to  the  city. 

"Have  you  had  a  pleasant  time,  Dorothy?"  asked 
her  companion,  smiling  down  into  her  pleased,  flushed 
lace. 

if  "I  have  had  the  most  pleasant  hours  of  my  life!" 
Declared  Dorothy.  "It  has  been  like  heaven  here; 
I  am  sorry  to  go.  And  oh!  how  dark  and  drear  to 
morrow  will  be  in  the  bindery,  after  such  a  pleasant 
outing  here." 

i  "You  need  not  return  to  the  bindery  to-morrow 
unless  you  wish,"  whispered  Langdon,  still  holding  the 
girl's  little  hand  in  his. 

Dorothy's  heart  beat  high.  Was  handsome  Harry 
OLangdon  about  to  propose  to  her  ?  she  wondered. 

But  no !  the  words  she  was  waiting  for  did  not  fall 
;from  his  lips,  although  he  had  plenty  of  opportunity 
as  they  walked  down  the  gayly  festooned  path  that  led 
to  the  wharf. 

"Perhaps  he  means  to  wait  until  he  gets  on  the 
boat,"  she  thought,  with  a  fluttering  heart. 

Poor  little  Dorothy!  there  was  no  one  to  warn  her 
against  him.  How  was  she  to  realize  that  the 
thought  of  marriage  had  never  entered  his  head,  and 
that  he  was  of  the  kind  who  smile  on  and  flatter 
toromen  and  then  ride  away,  little  caring  how  many 
broken  hearts  are  left  behind  ? 


128  PRETTY    MADCAP    DOROTHY 

Dorothy's  pretty,  innocent  face  had  captivated  hsfl 
fancy,  but  he  would  never  have  dreamed  of  making 
her  his  wife. 

As  they  neared  the  boat,  so  great  was  the  crowd 
clambering  on  board  that  Dorothy  would  have  been  ' 
separated  from  her  companion  had  she  not  clung  to 
Iris  arm.  j 

"You   need   never  go  back  to  the  book-bindery,' 
Dorothy,"  he  managed  to  whisper  again.  i 

At  that  moment  they  stepped  aboard  the  steamer 
and  started  toward  the  upper  deck. 

It  had  been  a  happy  day  for  Dorothy,  but  a  most 
miserable  one  for  poor  Jack.  Contrary  to  his  expec 
tations,  he  finished  the  task  allotted  to  him  much 
sooner  than  he  had  anticipated,  and  by  two  o'clock 
he  was  ready  to  quit  the  book-bindery  for  the  day. 

Hurrying  home,  he  quickly  changed  his  clothing, 
smiling  the  while  as  he  thought  of  putting  the  wish 
into  execution  that  had  been  in  his  heart  all  day,  of 
joining  the  crowd  up  at  West  Point ;  and  how  de 
lighted  Dorothy  would  be  to  see  him — what  a  surprise 
it  would  be  to  her ! 

His  mother  and  his  cousin  watched  him  out  of  sight 
from  their  humble  cottage  door,  and  then  turned  back  j 
to  their  duties  with  a  sigh.    They  had  hoped  that  he 
would  spend  the  day  with  them. 

With  a  joyful  heart  Jack  boarded  the  boat  for  West 
Point,  but  when  he  reached  there  and  found  that 
Dorothy  was  not  among  the  group,  his  disappointment 
knew  no  bounds. 

1;" My   tender-hearted    little    darling!"   he   thought. 
y* She  would  not  join  them  for  a  day's  pleasure  be- 


PRETTY   MADCAP.  DOROTHt  :  25? 


cause  she  thought  I  could  not  go,  and  she  is  having  ai 
lonely  time  of  it  at  home."  f  .  'I 

Back  to  the  city  Jack  posted  in  all  haste,  and  al 
though  the  hour  was  late  when  he  reached  there— the 
clocks  in  the  belfries  sounding  the  hour  of  nine — still 
he  could  not  refrain  from  stopping  a  moment  at  the 
cottage,  just  to  let  Dorothy  know  how  cruelly  fate  had 
tricked  him.  ! 

To  his  great  consternation,  he  learned  there,  from 
the  lady  who  kept  the  boarding-house,  that  Dorothy— * 
his  Dorothy — had  left  the  house  at  two  o'clock  that 
afternoon  with  handsome  Mr.  Langdon,  and  that  they; 
had  started  for  Staten  Island  for  a  day's  outing.  .  .  .  j 

He  stood  quite  still,  stupefied  with  amazement  too) 
great  for  words,  and  a  white,  awful  horror  broke  over* 
his  face  and  shone  in  his  eyes.  *< 

"Tell  me  about  him  again!"  he  cried,  hoarsely., 
"What  was  he  like — this  man  who  took  Dorothy 
away  ?"  And  as  he  listened  to  the  description  his  face 
grew  stormy  with  terrible  wrath,  for  it  tallied  exactly; 
with  that  of  the  man  who  had  put  Dorothy  in  the. cab 
and  rode  away  with  her.  ^ 

Like  a  lightning's  flash  Jack  tore  down  to  the  Staten 
Island  wharf,  and  was  just  in  time  to  catch  the.  out 
going  boat.  He  would  surprise  them,  he  told  himself, 
and  tear  little  Dorothy,  his  promised  bride,  from  his 
rival's  arms,  or  die  in  the  attempt.  jt 

All  the  way  down  the  bay  Jack  paced  the  deck  in  a 
tumult  of  fury  that  increased  with  every  breath  he 
drew. 

The  half  hour  that  it  took  to  reach  his  destination 
seemed  as  endless  as  the  pangs  of  purgatory  to  lost 
souls.  He  never  knew  how  the  journey  was  made,  ot. 


30  PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY 

how  he  reached  the  island — -flaming  with  lights  on  this 
gala  night,  and  gorgeous  with  flags  and  gilded  ban* 
ners.  ;j 

There  were  few  passengers  going  down  to  Stateti& 
Island.    The  steamer  had  come  to  take  the  revellers! 
back  to  the  city,  and  the  gang-plank  was  no  sooner]  If 
lowered  than  the  crowd  rushed  aboard  with  happy]  f. 
laughter  and  gay  repartee.    Among  the  first  to  gain  | 
a  foothold  on  the  stairway  that  led  to  the  upper  deck 
were  Harry  Langdon  and  Dorothy ;  and  here,  face  toi 
face,  they  met — Jack! 

"Unhand  that  young  girl!"  he  cried,  sternly,  facing 
Langdon.  "You  have  no  right  to  be  here  with  her." 

Langdon  started  back,  and  glanced  in  haughty] 
amazement  at  the  broad-shouldered,  fair-haired  young 
man  confronting  him. 

But  without  waiting  for  him  to  answer,  Jade 
turned  to  Dorothy,  holding  out  his  hands  to  her,  say 
ing  huskily: 

"Leave  him,  little  one,  and  come  with  me." 

But  Dorothy  threw  back  her  head  with  rising  anger. 

"How  dare  you,  Jack  Garner!"  she  cried,  stamping 
her  tiny  foot,  her  blue  eyes  flashing.  "I  shall  never 
speak  to  you  again  for  this — never!" 

"Step  out  of  our  way,"  cried  Dorothy's  companion,  I 
"and  allow  this  \oung  lady  and  myself  to  pass!" 

"You  shall  never  pass  me  with  her!"  cried  Jaclc, ' 
furiously,  his  hand  stealing  involuntarily  to  his  breast 
pocket. 

"Step  aside;  we  wish  to  go  on  deck!"  returned 
Langdon,  haughtily,  "arid  we  intend  to  do  so!" 

"You  will  never  go  on  deck  with  her,  unless  it  be 
my  dead  body !"  cried  Garner,  his  face  white  as 


PRETTY  MADCAP  DOROTHY  31' 

death,  his  voice  trembling  with  excitement,  and  his 
brown  eyes  flashing  like  living  coals  of  fire. 

"  You  can  not  prevent  me,"  retorted  Langdon,  in  a 
sneering,  contemptuous  voice.  Then,  turning  to  Doro 
thy,  he  added:  "I  am  glad  that  I  am  here  to  stand 
between  you  and  this  intrusive  fellow.  Come;  I  will 
thrust  him  aside,  and  we  will  go  on  deck,  my  dear." 

The  familiarity  with  which  he  addressed  his  com- 
J  pattion  stung  Jack  to  madness. 

"You  can  pass  on  deck  alone,  but  not  one  step  shall 
you  proceed  with  that  young  girl!  Try  it  at  your 
peril!"  shouted  Jack,  hoarsely. 

Langdon  did  not  heed  the  terrible  warning,  but  at 
tempted  to  push  past  with  his  companion ;  and  in  that 
instant  the  passengers  crowding  up  from  below  heard 
the  wild,  piercing,  terrified  cry  of  the  young  girl  ring 
out  on  the  night  air,  and  mingled  with  it  the  report  of 
a  revolver — three  shots  in  quick  succession — and  the 
voice  of  a  man  crying  out  in  mortal  agony:  "My 
God!  I  am  shot!"  and  the  next  instant  a  beautiful, 
fair-haired  girl  plunged  from  the  deck  down,  down 
into  the  dark,  mad  waves,  and  the  seething  waters 
*  closed  quickly  over  her  golden  head  and  white,  lovely, 
I  childish  face. 

In  an  instant  there  was  the  most  intense  excite- 

.  ment  and  confusion  on  board  the  steamer.     Young 

|  girls  fainted,  women  cried   aloud,  and   strong  men 

F  stood  fairly  paralyzed  with  horror.    Great  God!  the 

steamer  was  backing  slowly  over  the  spot  where  the 

girl  had  gone  down,  and  where  she  would 

'Nothing  could  save  her  now. 


&&  PRETTY   MADCAP  DOROTHY! 

CHAPTER  IV. 

f    All  in  an  instant   the    cry    rang   from  lip  to  lip: 

,  *< There's  a  man  overboard !"    Will  he  save  her?    OK,  f 
heavens,  is  he  too  late  to  save  the  life  of  the  beauti-  [ 
ful,  rash  girl  who  had  plunged  into  the  mad  waters 
scarcely  a  moment  before,  or  will  it  mean  death  foC] 
both  of  them?  i  « 

He  had  disappeared  beneath  the  steamer.  The  next 
moment  that  passed  seemed  the  length  of  eternky  to 
the  horrified  spectators  who  lined  the  dock  and  the 
decks,  straining  their  eyes  looking  down  into  the  dark 
.waters  lighted  up  so  fitful!)'  by  the  pallid  moonlight. 

i  He  rose,  and  a  great  cry  broke  from  every  lip.  He 
was  alone,  and  almost  instantly  he  disappeared  again. 
'And  again  he  rose,  still  alone.  Every  heart  sank. 
People  held  their  breath.  Useless,  useless  to  hope. 
The  poor  girl's  fate  was  sealed. 

\  Then  a  mighty  cheer  broke  forth.  The  waters 
parted,  and  they  saw  him  again.  This  time  he  was 
making  for  the  shore,  holding  in  one  arm  the  body  of 
the  luckless  young  girl  whom  he  had  risked  his  own 
ilife  to  save. 

\     Suddenly  they  heard  him  utter  a  sharp  cry. 
"A  rope!    A  rope!    I  am  sinking!" 
In  less  time  than  it  takes  to  tell  it,  a  score  or  more  1 
of  strong  arms  hurled  one  out  to  him,  and  he  caught  | 
at  in  the  nick  of  time. 

Then  amidst  the  greatest  excitement  he  was  drawn 
to  the  deck  with  his  inanimate  burden. 

So  intense  had  been  the  excitement  that  the  pas 
sengers  who  had  stood  nearest  the  principals  in  the 


PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHYS  33 

bitter  quarrel  which  had  taken  place  Had  lost  track 
entirely  of  the  fact  that  a  tragedy  had  almost  been 
enacted  in  their  midst. 

And  when  they  began  to  inquire  info  the  matter 
no  one  could  tell  what  had  become  of  the  man  who 
i  had  cried  out  that  he  had  been  shot,  and  they  con- 
|  sidered  it  a  false  alarm. 

Had  this  lovely  young  girl  anything1  to  do  with 

)'  this  matter,  or  was  it  a  coincidence  that  at  the  self 
same  moment  she  had  flung  herself  into  the  water? 

Meanwhile,  kindly  hands  took  the  burden  fromtthe 
young  man's  arms.  As  he  was  drawn  on  deck  some 
cue  in  the  crowd  cried  out  in  consternation: 

"Great  Heavens!  It's  Jack  Garner!  And  the  girl 
whom  he  has  saved  is  little  Dorotby  Glenn!" 

There  was  much  speculation  as  to  why  the  girl  had 
attempted  to  commit  suicide;  but  Jack's  friend,  a 
fellow-workman  in  the  book-bindery,  declared  quickly 
that  it  never  could  have  been  a  case  of  attempted 
suicide — the  girl  must  have  fallen  overboard,  and  Jack 
had  of  course  sprung  to  the  rescue. 

This  looked  plausiHe  enough;  and  what  they  had 
all  expected  to  be  a  great  sensation  seemed  to  turn 
out  but  an  accident  pure  and  simple. 

As  for  Langdon,  he  had  suddenly  disappeared  in 
the  crowd  after  striking  at  the  revolver  which  Jack 
had  drawn  upon  him  and  crying  out  mockingly  that 
he  was  shot  when  it  was  discharged,  simply  to  get 
Jack  into  trouble  and  to  get  sympathy  for  himself. 

They  found  it  no  easy  matter  fo  restore  the  girl  to 
consciousness,  and  at  this  juncture  an  old  gentleman, 
a  retired  doctor  who  had  been  in  the  cabin  when  the 
accident  had  happened,  c^*pe  hurriedly,  to  her  as- 


34  PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY 

sistance  when  he  heard  that  she  was  beyond  the  skill 
of  those  attending  her  in  the  ladies'  cabin. 

"' Stand  back!"  he  cried,  forcing  his  wray  througK 
the  crowd  of  women.  "How  do  you  suppose  you  can 
bring  her.  to  while  you  stand  round  her  and  exclude  f 
the  air?  And  by  all  that's  wonderful,  although  you 
poured  brandy  down  her  throat,  no  one  seemed  to 
.•know  enough  to  open  her  dress!" 

And  forthwith  he  began  hurriedly  to  open  the  dress 
at  the  throat.  But  as  he  did  so  a  low  cry  broke  from 
his  lips,  and  his  florid  old  face  turned  deathly  white. 

"My  God,  it  is  she!"  he  cried,  hoarsely;  and  despite 
the  curious  throng  about  him,  the  old  doctor  burst 
into  tears  and  wept  like  a  child. 

He  felt  that  some  explanation  was  due,  and  in  a 
broken,  husky  voice  he  said,  pointing  to  a  small,  ir 
regular  mark  over  the  girl's  chest : 
i'  "I  have  been  searching  for  her  for  sixteen  years  by 
night  and  by  day,  and  finally  abandoned  all  hope  o£ 
finding  her.  She — she  is  not  a  relative,  as  you  may 
suppose.  A  few  words  will  explain: 

"Some  sixteen  years  ago  I  had  a  beautiful  ward,  as 
'fair  a  young  girl  as  ever  the  sun  shone  on,  and  I,  a 
lonely  old  man  who  had  outlived  all  his  kinsfolk,  loved  £ 
her  with  all  the  devotion  of  my  heart. 

"She  was  happy  enough  in  my  home — aye,  as  Happy 
as  the  day  was  long,  but,  like  many  another  young 
girl,  the  bitter  trial  of  life  came  with  her  first  dream 
of  love.  She  fell  in  love  with  a  scoundrel.  I  knew; 
the  man  better  than  she,  and  refused  my  consent.  But 
young  girls  are  willful,  and  the  upshot  of  the  whole 
matter  was — she  eloped  with  him.  It  was  the  most' 
Yrrible  blow  of  my  life.  Two  years  went  by,  in  which1 


PRETTY    MADCAP   DOROTHtf  35 

I  neither  saw  nor  heard  of  her.    Then  unexpectedly 
I   received  a  short,  hastily  written  letter  from 


heart-broken  Alice. 


>      "  'When  you  read  this  I  shall  be  no  more/ 
wrote.    'Oh,  Doctor  Bryan,  I  have  paid  the  penalty 
of  my  folly  with  my  life.    I  am  slowly  dying  of  star-   , 

\  vation.    For  myself,  I  bow  to  the  fate  I  have  brought  j 

;  upon  my  own  head.  But  the  result  of  my  folly  does 
not  rest  here.  It  falls  upon  the  head  of  an  innocent 
little  babe  whom  I  must  leave  behind  me.  Oh,  Doctor 
'Bryan,  this  is  the  prayer  that  in  the  last  moments  of 
my  life  I  make  to  you  : 

"  'Plead  with  the  little  one's  father  to  let  her  come 
to  you.  If  he  keeps  her,  may  God  in  heaven  pity  her 
future.  He  will  blast  her  life  as  he  did  mine,  or  —  if 
it  'suits  his  pleasure,  he  will  abandon  her  on  the  streets 
to  starve,  as  I  am  doing  now.  If  I  could  think  that 
she  would  be  with  you,  I  would  die  without  this  heavy 
load  on  my  heart.  She  is  so  'fair  and  beautiful  —  my; 
poor  little  baby!  She  has  only  one  blemish  —  the 
same  scar  is  upon  her  bosom  that  is  upon  mine,  and 
which  I  have  heard  you  say  was  upon  the  bosom  of 

,tny  mother  —  the  birthmark  of  the  three  spears. 

I     "  'I  can  not  write  any  more.    My  hand  trembles  sof 

i  that  I  can  scarcely  hold  the  pen. 

Is     "  'Good-bye,   Doctor   Bryan.     Never   forget  yous 

1  poor,  heart-broken  ALICE.' 


i"  "I  searched  for  her  night  and  day,"  repeated  the 
old  man,  with  a  sob  in  his  voice.  "Alice  died  at  sea, 
and  the  fate  of  the  little  one  could  not  be  learned,  nor 
that  of  the  father.  I  never  ceased  searching  until  the 
last  year.  Then  I  said  to  myself,  'It  is  useless — us®- 


36  PRETTY    MADCAP   DOROTHY 

less.    Alice's  baby  is  dead/     But  I  have  fqtmcf  .l 
most  miraculously  at  last,  thank  God !"  ... 

This  revelation  created  the  most  intense  excite 
ment  among  the  women,  who  had  listened  breathlessly; 
to  the  denouement.  I 

He    had    scarcely    ceased    speaking  ere   Dorothy; 
opened  her  eyes.    She  found  to  her  great  consterna-  f 
tion  a  crowd  surrounding  her.  | 

But  in  an  instant  memory  returned  to  her,  and  witfi 
a  startled  cry  she  struggled  up  to  a  sitting  posture, 
gazing  in  blank  bewilderment  upon  the  crowd  that  had 
gathered  about  her. 

"I — I  fainted  and  fell  backward,"  she  began;  but 
the  Bid  gentleman  bent  quickly  over  her,  interrupting, 
hastily : 

"Yes,  you  fell  backward  and  down  into  the  water, 
my  child,  and  came  near  drowning.  Where  is  the 
young  man  who  saved  her?"  he  cried.  "Will  some 
one  fetch  him  here  at  once  to,  me,  so  that  I  may  thank 
him?  Oh,  child,  child!"  he  cried,  again  bending  over 
Dorothy,  "I  would  have  recognized  you  among  ten 
thousand !  You  look  at  me  with  your  mother's  eyes !" 

"My  mother?"  cried  Dorothy,  in  awe,  thinking  that 
she  had  not  heard  aright,  or  that  the  gentleman  had 
mistaken  her  for  some  one  else.  "I — I  am  an  orphan ; 
my  name  is  Dorothy  Glenn." 

:     The  old  gentleman  did  not  utter  the  words  that  * 
sprang  to  his  lips  when  she  mentioned  the  name  Glenn, 
though  his  face  darkened  for  an  instant  with  bitter 
memory. 

""But  will  you  tell  me,"  cried  Dorothy,  with  a  pit 
eous  sob,  "what  has  become  of  my  escort,  Mr. 


?RETTY   MADCAP  DOROTHY!  37j 

I 

Nobody  seemed  to  know,  and  it  soon  ftecatne  ap- 
|>arent  to  everyone — even  to  the  girl  herself — that  in 
her  peril  he  had  miserably  deserted  her  rather  than 
risk  his  life  to  save  hers. 

" Another  young-  man  periled  his  life  for  you,"  some 
one  answered;  but  who  it  was  Dorothy  could  not 
learn,  and  in  that  moment  she  was  glad  enough  to  call 
for  Jack — poor,  faithful  Jack  Garner. 

But  he  did  not  come  this  time  at  her  bidding.  No 
one  told  her  that  he  was  suffering  from  a  severe  con 
tusion  on  the  side  of  the  head,  and  was  scarcely  con 
scious  of  the  message  that  was  sent  him  at  that  time. 

"You  have  no  need  of  their  protection.  From  this 
time  henceforth  you  shall  be  under  my  watchful  care, 
little  Dorothy;"  and  very  briefly,  and  to  her  intense 
amazement,  Mr.  Bryan  told  her  the  story  that  he  had 
already  related  to  those  about  her.  "I  shall  take  you 
home  with  me,"  he  said,  "and  you  shall  never  again 
know  want." 

To  the  girl  it  seemed  as  though  what  she  had  heard 
Was  but  the  wild  vagaries  of  a  dream,  from  which  she 
should  awaken  presently  and  find  herself  back  in  the 
old  beck-bindery  with  the  other  girls.  But  the  excla 
mations  of  the  people  who  pressed  around  her  con 
gratulating  her  upon  her  good  fortune,  which  read 
so  much  like  a  romance,  were  real  enough,  for  they  all 
knew  Doctor  Bryan,  the  wealthy  old  retired  physician, 
whose  elegant  country  place  was  just  outside  of  New 
York. 

The  loss  of  Dorothy's  handsome  lover,  who  had  for 
saken  her  in  so  shameful  a  manner,  would  have 
been  a  terrible  blow  to  her  had  she  had  time  to  think 
and  brood  over  the  matter.  But  this  new  excitement 


138  PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY 


[that  had  come  so  suddenly  upon  her,  making  part  and 
parcel  of  her  life,  threw  her  thoughts  in  quite  a  dil- 
f  erent  channel.  How  surprised  Harry  Langdon  would 
be  when  he  he.ard  the  wonderful  news,  and  how  all 
the  book-bindery  girls  would  hold  their  breath  in  as 
tonishment  too  great  for  words  when  she  did  not  come 
to  work  on  the  following  day,  but  got  a  letter  from  her 
instead,  explaining  the  wonderful  change  in  her  for 
tunes  !  Nadine  Holt  would  be  green  with  envy,  and  so 
would  the  rest  of  the  girls,  down  in  the  secret  depths 
of  their  hearts.  There  was  only  one  among  them  who 
would  rejoice  because  her  working-days  among  them 
were  over,  and  that  was  Jessie  Staples,  who  had  al 
ways  declared  Dorothy  was  born  to  be  a  real  lady. 


CHAPTER  V. 


Great  was  the  consternation  at  Gray  Gables,  as  the 
'Bryan  mansion  was  called,  vvhen  the  doctor  drove  up 
to  the  door  in  the  old  family  carriage,  and  the  house 
keeper,  looking  from  the  window,  saw  a  young  girl 
seated  by  his  side. 

For  many  years  past  he  had  had  the  strongest  aver-  \ 
sion  to  young  girls,  and  it  was  over  sixteen  years  since 
one  had  crossed  that  threshold.  No  wonder  that  the 
housekeeper  was  amazed  to  see  him  assist  her  from, 
th'e  carriage  and  lead  her  by  the  hand  up  the  broad 
walk  toward  the  porcli. 

"Great  Heaven!"  cried  Mrs.  Kemp,  as  they  drew 
nearer,  "it  looks  like  Miss  Alice;  but  it  couldn't  be 
Iber ;  for  long  years  have  passed  since — since  the  night 


PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY  39 

she  ran  away.  It  must  be  her  daughter — yes,  that 
is  it!" 

fe  All  of  a  tremble,  she  hastened  to  the  door,  and 
>  flung  it  open  wide.  She  could  see  by  Mr.  Bryan's 
i  face  that  something  unusual  had  occurred,  even  be- 
|  fore  her  eyes  rested  on  the  fair  young  creature 
beside  him. 

"Mrs.  Kemp,"  he  said,  huskily,  "I  have  here  with' 
nie  one  who  will  surprise  you  greatly  when  you  hear 
her  name — nay,  astound  you."  ' 

"I  can  see  for  myself  that  she  bears  a  striking  re 
semblance  to — to — "  and  the  rest  of  the  sentence  \vas 
lost  in  a  choking  sob. 

"I  am  sorry  that  I  make  you  feel  so  bad,"  said  the 
fresh  young  voice;  and  the  next  instant  a  pair  of 
plump  arms  were  about  the  old  lady's  neck  and  a  soft, 
velvety  cheek  was  pressed  close  to  hers.  " Doctor 
Bryan  has  told  me  all  my  history,"  the  girl  cried  in 
the  same  breath — "how  he  has  been  searching  for  me 
all  these  years,  finding  me  at  last ;  and  that  I  am  here 
after  to  live  in  this  grand  old  place.  And  I  have  been 
fairly  crying  with  joy  all  the  way  up  from  New  York 
,  to-day.  I  could  not  help  but  scream  with  delight; 
.  though  I  know  it  quite  horrified  Doctor  Bryan,  when  I 

I  saw  the  house  and  the  magnificent  grounds  around  it. 
As  soon  as  I  take  off  my  hat  I  want  to  run  into  the 
garden  and  see  the  rose-bushes  with"  real  roses  grow 
ing  on  them,  and  see  what  a  house  is  like.  I've  always 
lived  in  a  tenement  flat  or  boarding-house." 

It  made  Mrs.  Kemp  laugh',  even  through  her  tears, 
at  tRe  girl's  wild  enthusiasm.  She  was  like  an  un 
trained,  untutored  child,  despite  her  years,  she 
thought; 


*K>  PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY 

The  doctor's  eyes  grew  moist  as  he  listened,  and 
'during  the  few  days  that  followed  he  watched  her 
from  his  study  window  with  unfeigned  delight.  She 
appeared  to  him  more  like  a  child  of  seven  than  a 
young  lady  of  seventeen.  r  : 

She  was  too  busy  in  looking  over  the  place,  for  the 
next  fortnight,  to  carry  out  her  intention  of  writing  to 
the  girls. 

'     She  seemed   to  have    been   lifted  into  a  different 
world,  where  the  dark  past  lay  far  behind  her. 

At  this  juncture  an  event  happened  which  cast  a 
dark  shadow  over  all  poor  Dorothy's  after  life. 

She  was  out  in  the  garden  one  day  with  Mrs.  Kemp, 
when  the  doctor  joined  them,  holding  a  telegram  in 
his  hand. 

"I  have  just  received  word  from  Harry  that  he  will 
be  here  to-morrow,"  he  said,  with  a  pleased  expression 
on  his  face.  "I  hope  that  you  will  see  that  a  room  is 
put  in  readiness  for  him/' 

"To  be  sure,  sir,"  responded  the  housekeeper,  with 
a  little  courtesy. 

His  footsteps  had  scarcely  died  away  ere  Dorothy 
turned  eagerly  to  her  companion. 

"Who  is  Harry?"  she  asked,  witK  all  a  young  girl's  I 
curiosity. 

"He  is  a  young  gentleman  who  has  been  studying  " 
medicine  with  Dr.  Bryan  for  the  last  year,"  returned 
the  housekeeper,  adding,  with  a  slight  frown  on  her 
comely  face:  "The  doctor  is  quite  fond  of  him.  He 
has  been  away  for  the  last  three  months,  and  tlie  House 
Has  been  so  nice  and  quiet  without  him." 

"By  the  way  you  speak  one  wouldn't  fancy;  that  you 
liked  this  Mr.  Harry,"  laughed  Dorothy. 


PRETTY    MADCAP   DOROTHY  41 

Tlie  housekeeper  turned  grimly  away. 

"But  what  is  he  like?"  persisted  Dorothy,  pursuing 
the  subject. 

"Is  he  young — is  he  handsome?" 

"Handsome  is  as  handsome  does,"  replied  Mrs. 
Kemp,  ominously. 

"Doesn't  he  do  handsome?"  retorted  Dorothy, 
throwing  back  her  curly  head  with  a  rich  mellow: 
laugh,  adding:  "But  what  is  he  like,  anyhow?  Is  he 
dark  or  fair,  young  or  old?" 

"No  doubt  he  will  strike  you  as  being  quite  hand- 
sane,"  returned  Mrs.  Kemp,  thoughtfully.  "He  has 
.very  dark  eyes  and  dark  waving,  hair.  Young  girls 
would  consider  him  quite  good  looking." 
•  "And  will  he,  too,  live  in  the  house  with  us  ?"*asked 
Dorothy,  curiously. 

"You  had  better  ask  Doctor  Bryan,"  responded 
Mrs.  Kemp,  evasively. 

,     The  next  morning,  as  Dorothy  stepped  out  into  the 

garden  to  gather  flowers  for  the  breakfast-table,  she 

came  suddenly  upon  a  young  man  pacing  up  and  down 

under  the  trees  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  smoking 

,  a  cigar. 

1     When  he  heard   the   light,   pattering  footsteps  h'e 

4  wheeled  round,  and  was  just  about  to  raise  his  hat  to 

5  the  vision  of  girlish  loveliness  before  him  when  a  low. 
3  Cry  of  intense  astonishment  broke  from  his  lips. 

*  "Dorothy  Glenn,  by  all  that  is  wonderful!"  he  ex- 
Claimed. 

The  amazement  was  mutual. 

"Harry  Langdon!"  the  girl  shrieked,  turning  pale 
as  'deatK. 

"What  in  the  name  of  Heaven  brings  you  to  this 


42  PRETTY   MADCAP  DOROTHY 

house?"  he  cried,  hoarsely,  catching  her  wrist  and 
holding  it  in  a  tight  grip. 

"You  have  no  right  to  know,  after  the  way  you  de* 
serted  me  in  my  peril,"  flashed  Dorothy. 

"But  how  came  you  here,"  he  repeated,  "of  all 
places  in  the  world  ?  I  must  know !" 

The  girl  briefly  outlined  how  it  happened,  her  anger  [ 
rising  against  her  questioner  with  every  word;  and  . 
as  he  listened  his  face  was  a  study.  i  * 

"Dorothy,"  he  said,  in  his  low,  smooth'  voice,  "you 
accuse  me  of  not  trying  to  save  you  when  you  felt 
overboard.  But  let  me  speak  just  one  word  in  my; 
own  defense:  You  remember  just  what  was  taking 
place  as  we  reached  the  deck.  You  heard  the  shot, 
but  you  fainted  and  did  not  know  what  happened. 
The  bullet  whizzed  by  me,  and  I  fell  back  on  the  deck 
stunned — unconscious.  I  did  not  recover  until  long 
after  the  steamer  reached  New  York.  All  the  people 
had  dispersed  long  before  I  returned  to  consciousness. 
I  made  diligent  search  for  you,  and  to  my  great  horror 
it  soon  dawned  upon  me  that  not  one  whom  you  knew, 
could  tell  me  whither  you  had  gone." 

Dorothy  v/as"  young  and  guileless,  or  he  could  never 
llave  fooled  her  so  easily.  But  the  story  seemed  very 
plausible  to  her  ears,  and  her  face  brightened. 

It  was  a  great  load  lifted  from  her  heart — her  trust* 
ful  belief  that  handsome  Mr.  Langdon  had  not  been  I 
false  to  her  after  all. 

"Now,  Dorothy,  I  have  something  to  say  to  you," 
fie  began.  "Walk  down  this  path  with  me,  for  yotf 
must  listen  intently  to  what  I  have  to  say  to  you.  f 
Have  a  little  confession  to  make  to  you,  and  a  favor- 
&>  ask,  and  surely  you  are  too  kind  of  Heart  and  too 


PRETTY  MADCAP   DOROTHY  43 

guod  a  friend  to  me  to  refuse.  I  had  intended  telling 
you  this  upon  our  return  on  the  boat.  My  name  is 
not  Harry  Langdon,  as  you  have  believed,  but  Harry; 
Langdon  Kendal. 

"I  am  studying  medicine  with  Doctor  Bryan,  in 
stead  of  law,  as  I  once  led  you  to  believe.  And  as  to 
the  great  expectations  I  told  you  about,  I  confess  that 
they  exist  only  in  my  mad  hopes  that  Doctor  Bryan, 
.who  is  alone  in  the  world,  without  kith  or  kin,  might 
take  a  fancy  to  leave  me  something  some  day.  He 
<3oes  not  know  of  my  rash  wager,  and  that  by  losing  it 
I  was  forced  to  go  to  New  York  and  place  myself  on 
a  street  car  as  conductor  for  a  while.  He  would  dis 
approve  of  it  if  he  knew,  and,  Dorothy,  you  must 
never  tell  him — promise  me  that  here  and  now — he 
must  never  know  that  we  have  ever  met  before!" 

Dorothy  did  not  hesitate  to  give  him  the  required 
assurance,  for  which  he  thanked  her  so  profusely  that 
it  brought  the  warm  blushes  in  a  flood-tide  to  the 
girl's  dimpled  cheeks ;  and  Mrs.  Kemp  wondered  why 
Dorothy  looked  so  happy  as  she  entered  the  house. 

Left  to  himself,  Kendal  paced  excitedly  under  the 
trees,  puffing  away  vigorously  at  his  cigar. 

•'A  devil  of  a  fix  this,"  he  muttered,  setting  his 
•white  teeth  hard  together;  "Great  Heaven!  this  is  a 
xomance  in  real  life  more  strangely  weird  than  any 
fiction.  Who  would  have  thought  of  finding  this  girl 
here,  of  all  persons  in  the  world,  and  under  such  cir 
cumstances!  And  then,  to  make  matters  worse,  I 
have  been  making  violent  love  to  the  girl.  It  was  all 
xrery  well  to  make  desperate  love  to  the  little  New? 
York  working-girl,  but  to  make  love  to  Miss  Glenn, 
the  doctor's  protegee,  is  quite  another  matter.  I  shall 


rfK  PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY 

Se  expecied  to  ask  for  her  hand  in  marriage,  ?T.  course, 
and  she  without  a  dollar.    No,  thanks  1    I'd  rather  that 
some  other  fellow  would  woo  and  win  the  little  blne- 
eyed  fairy.    When  it  comes  to  marrying  I  must  have*. 
a  girl  with  money,  who  can  put  up  the  needful  for  I 
both  if  necessary.     If  she  will  only  keep  my  secret  Ir 
will  be  but  too  grateful  I" 

•Jj     Meanwhile,  Dorothy  had  stolen  up  to  her  own  room,  * 
and  at  that  moment  was  standing  before  the  r/iantel,  * 
Testing  her  elbows  on  it,  her  dimpled  chin  upon  her 
tiands,  gazing  wistfully  into  the  mirror's   depths  at 
the  lovely  young  face  it  reflected.  ^  .1     I  '  *?tj 

\'l  "Oh,  how  my  cheeks  burn!"  she  cried,  excitedly, 
!  "and  how  my  heart  thumps  even  yet.  I  was  sure  he 
!  would  hear  it.  I  thought  I  should  never  see  him 
again,  but  It  is  fate  that  brings  us  together  here.  I 
shall  always  believe  in  it  firmly  and  truly  after  this. 
He  cares  for  me.  He  as  much  as  told  me  so  on  the 
night  that  we  went  to  the  moonlight  picnic  on  Staten 
Island,  and  the  fortune-teller  who  told  my  fortune 
said — when  all  of  us  bindery  girls  visited  her  one  day 
•—'I  see  a  short  journey  for  you,  miss — a  dark  young 
man  and  a  marriage-ring;'  "  and  for  the  next  ten  min 
utes  Dorothy  capered  around  the  room,  dancing  intf 
such  hoidenish,  girlish  glee  that  she  would  fairly  have ! 
shocked  the  old  housekeeper  could  she  have  seen  her.  | 
'"It's  all  coming  true!"  cried  Dorothy,  breathlessly,  to 
herself.  But  not  one  thought  did  she  give  to  poor 
'Jack,  whose  betrothal-ring  she  carried  pinned  to  her 
pocket. 


rf 


PRETTY   MADCAP   IDO^OTHY  45 

CHAPTER  VI. 

*  How  the  hours  passed  up  to  luncheon  time  Doroth;/ 
|  never  afterward  realized,  her  foolish  little  heart  was  in 
|  such  a  flutter  of  excitement. 

3      She  knew  she  should  meet  Harry  at  the  table,  and 
I  oh !  it  would  be  so  hard  to  pretend  before  Doctor- 

*  Br}an  and  the  stern,  keen-eyed  old  housekeeper  that 
Ihey  were  strangers.  ;| 

She  had  but  two  dresses  as  yet,  which  the  house* 
keeper  had  provided  her  with,  and  she  tried  on  eacli 
of  them  in  succession  to  see  which  looked  best  on 
fier.  | 

Which  should  it  be?  The  pale-blue  merino  or  the 
rc&e-pink  cashmere  ? 

After  much  studying  and  slipping  on  and  off, 
I>orothy  decided  upon  wearing  the  rose-pink. 

She  was  scarcely  dressed  ere  the  luncheon  belt 
rang.  ij 

Taking  up  her  handkerchief,  Dorothy  flew  down 
the  stairway,  pausing  before  the  doorway  to  catch  her 
breath  and  to  summon  courage  to  enter. 

But  the  longer  she  stood  there  the  more  difficult 
is  it  seemed  to  get  courage  enough  to  open  the  door  and 
I  face  the  music.     At  length  she  heard  Doctor  Bryan 
«|  inquire  surprisedly  of  Mrs.  Kent: 
J      "Where  can  Dorothy  be,  I  wonder?" 

And  the  next  instant  they  heard  a  faint  voice  ex* 
claim : 

"Here  I  am,  please." 

And,  turning  to  see  from  whence  the  sound  pro* 
Ceeded1  they  all  saw  distinctly  that  the  door  was  opea 


ft6  PRETTY   MADCAP   DCKOTHY 

the  space  of  an  inch,  and  that  a  human  eye  was  ap 
plied  to  the  crack,  while  four  little  fingers  clutched 
it  frantically  to  keep  it  open. 

"Come  in,  Dorothy,"  commanded  Mr.  Bryan,  in 
wardly  highly  amused  at  the  girl's  bash  fulness  in  ven 
turing  in  when  she  saw  a  stranger  seated  at  the  board. 

Dorothy  opened  the  door,  stumbled  over  the  mat, 
and,  with  a  face  red  as  a  beet,  walked  awkwardly 
to  the  table  and  took  her  seat,  which  happened  to  be 
directly  opposite  Harry's. 

She  did  not  dare  for  the  life  of  her  to  look  at  him, 
for  she  knew  that  his  black  eyes  were  bent  upon  her. 
She  felt  them  scorching  down  into  her  soul. 

"Dorothy,"  said  Mr.  Bryan,  pompously,  "allow  me 
to  present  to  you  my  young  friend,  Mr.  Kendal." 

"I  am  right  glad  to  see  him,  sir,"  said  Dorotiiy, 
faintly,  without  raising  her  eyes. 

Noticing  her  embarrassment,  Doctor  Bryan  quickly 
turned  the  conversation  into  another  channel;  but  he 
soon  observed  that  his  young  friend  was  looking  at 
the  girl  across  the  table,  almost  convulsed  with 
laughter. 

It  took  but  one  glance  that  way  to  see  the  cause. 

In  her  great  confusion  Dorcthy  was  making  dira 
efforts  to  eat  her  soup  with  a  fork,  catching  occa* 
sionally  a  stray  bean. 

"Remove  the  soup  plates!"  roared  the  doctor  to  the 
servant  who  stood  in  waiting,  and  who  was  also  grin-» 
ning  at  the  girl's  discomfiture. 

It  was  the  most  confusing  meal  that  Dorothy  had 
ever  sat  down  to. 

-  And  when  she  arose  from  the  table  she  was  far 
than  when  she  sat  down. 


PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY  47 

She  had  scarcely  eaten  a  good  solid  mouthful. 
Oh,  it  was  so  hard  to  act  out  such  a  falsehood  as 
JUndsome  Harry  had  prevailed  upon  her  to  do, 
-j      During  the   fortnight   that   followed,   she   became 
'\  more  used  to  the  situation,  but  it  was  no  little  wonder, 
{  both  to  the  housekeeper  and  Doctor  Bryan,  what  ex- 
I  cellent  friends  they  were  getting  to  be  in  so  short  a: 
lime.  i 

It  could  not  be  that  they  were  falling  in  love  witK 
each  other ;  and  the  doctor  looked  rather  serious  at  the 
last  thought. 

As  for  Dorothy,  it  was  quite  a  clear  case ;  she  was 
'deeply  in  love  with  Harry  Kendal.  Like  all  girls,  her 
.<day-dreams  were  rosy.  It  was  so  sweet  to  wander 
with  him  through  the  grand  grounds  surrounding 
Gray  Gables,  or  sit  in  the  sunshine  in  the  clover 
meadow  beyond,  with  the  babbling  brook  at  their  feet, 
and  the  great  branches  of  the  oak  trees  over  their 
heads,  and  listen  to  him  while  he  read  such  sweet 
poems  to  her — poems  of  how  some  lover  loved  a  lassie^ 
and  how  bright  was  their  future. 

But  still  there  was  a  change  in  him ;  he  wasn't  just 
like  he  used  to  be  when  she  was  only  Dorothy  Glenn, 
working  for  her  living  in  the  book-bindery.  And  just 
to  show  him  that  she  did  not  notice  the  change,  ancf 
did  not  care,  she  was  so  gay  and  hoidenish,  so  full  of 

•  repartee  and  laughter,  that  she  saw  him  open  his  eyes 

•  in  wonder  more  than  once ;  and  Doctor  Bryan  gave 
her   the   soubriquet   of    "Madcap    Dorothy,"   which 
seemed  to  suit  her  exactly. 

There  was  no  prank  that  could  ever  have  entered  a 
rogruish  girl's  brain  which  she  did  not  play  upon 
Kendal. 


PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY 

!     This  phase  of  her  character  rather  annoyed  Kendal 
than  pleased  him;  and  it  seemed  to  him  that  she  took 
a  special  delight  in  teasing  him.    She  hid  his  slippers, 
slipped  briars  into  his  couch,  turned  tack-points;  up-  '• 
ward  in  his  lounging  chairs,  and  substituted  period-  | 
icals  a  month  old  for  his  morning  journals  and  mag-  f 
azines,  until  he  almost  grew  to  detest  her  for  becoming  ; 
the  torment  of  his  life.    Shrewd  as  he  was  in  the  ways  • 
of  young  girls,  he  did  not  know  that  this  is  the  course  I 
\vhich  many  a  young  girl  pursues  toward  a  young  man. 
•with  whom  she  has  fallen  in  love,  and  would  not  have 
ibim  know  it  for  the  whole  world. 
<r     If  there  was  anything  which  Kendal  detested,  it 
\vas  a  girl  who  was  always  on  the  lookout  to  turn, 
every   word  and  action  into  a  joke.     He  preferred 
them  modest  and  flower-like;  still,  he  was  in  duty; 
bound  to  treat  her  as  well  as  he  could  because  she  was 
under  that  roof. 

3.  And  there  was  another  reason  why  he  began  to 
abhor  Dorothy.  Before  her  appearance  on  the  scene, 
there  had  been  a  wild  hope  in  his  heart  that  some  day- 
he  might  possibly  inherit  a  good  portion  of  Doctor; 
[Bryan's  money.  For  two  years  or  more  he  had  left 
no  stone  unturned  to  get  into  the  old  gentleman's  good  { 
graces.  | 

(     True,  Dorothy  was  as  much  of  a  stranger  to  Doc-  I 
tor  Bryan  as  he  himself  was,  but  who  knew  but  that,  • 
by  some  freak  of  unlucky  fate,  he  might  take  a  notion 
to  leave  the  girl  all  of  his  fortune?     He  wished  to 
[Heaven  she  had  never  crossed  the  threshold  of  Gray 
Gables. 

1      At  this  turn  of  affairs  it  occurred  to  him  that  it 
sat  be  a  bad  idea  to  test  the  old  gentleman'* 


PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY  49. 

^friendship  for  himself;  and  the  greatest  ®f  all  tests, 
tie  believed,  was  to  borrow  money  from  him.  If  Doc 
tor  Bryan  refused  this  little  favor,  he  reasoned  to 
himself,  all  his  hopes  in  regard  to  inheriting  the  old 
gentleman's  money,  in  time  to  come,  would  be  dashed. 
LHe  would  ask  him  for  a  small  loan ;  and  on  the  very 
day  this  occurred  to  him  he  proceeded  to  put  it  into 
execution,  saying  to  himself: 

**  'He  either  fears  his  fate  too  much, 

Or  his  deserts  are  small, 
.Who  fears  to  put  it  to  the  touch' 
To  win  or  lose  it  all/  " 

P  He  knew  that  he  should  find  the  doctor  in  his  study 
Directly  after  luncheon,  and  here  he  presented  himself 
with  some  trepidation. 

"Come  in,"   called  the  doctor,  in  answer  to  his 
knock.  J 

)  "Oh,  it's  you,  is  it,  Harry?"  he  exclaimed,  placing 
a  chair  for  him,  which  the  young  man  took  rather 
awkwardly. 

'  "It  is  not  often  I  trouble  you  in  your  study,  sir," 
began  Harry,  "but  I  have  something  of  importance 
to  say  to  you,  and  I  beg  that  you  will  pardon  the  in 
trusion.  I  chose  a  time  when  we  will  be  least  apt  to 
be  interrupted." 

'  "I  wouldn't  advise  you  to  begin  it  if  it  will  take 
dong  to  tell,"  said  Mr.  Bryan,  "for  we  might  be  in 
terrupted  at  any  moment.  I  am  expecting  an  old 
•friend,  who  is  to  accompany  me  on  a  horse-back  ride. 
(He  ought  to  have  been  here  by  this  time." 

Harry  fidgeted  nervously  about  in  his  chair.     H 


"'50  PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY 

!  required  something  of  an  effort  to  make  his  request 
carelessly. 

"You  are  the  only  one,"  be  began,  a  little  discon- 

'_  fcertedly,  "I  feel  sure,  who  can  help  me  in  my  pres-  r 

',  cnt  dilemma.*7 

The  old   doctor  wheeled  suddenly  around  in  his  . 

'chair,  and  all  in  an  instant  the  object  of  the  young 
man's  visit  flashed  over  his  mind. 

"To  my  mind  he  is  come  to  tell  me  that  he  has  fal 
len  head  over  heels  in  love  with  little  Dorothy,  and 
(Wants  to  marry  her;"  and  with  the  thought  a  broad 
smile  crept  up  to  the  lips  the  white  beard  covered. 

!  He  had  never  been  in  love  himself — but,  for  all  that, 
(he  always  sympathized  with  young  folks  in  their  ten- 
'•der  affairs  of  the  heart,  and  many  a  secret  sigh  es 
caped  his  lips  for  the  lost  opportunities  of  the  past. 

|  "Well,"  he  began,  brusquely,  "why  don't  you  pro 
ceed,  my  boy?"  ] 

i  "It  is  such  a  delicate  matter,"  began  Kendal,  "that 
5  scarcely  know  how  to  frame  the  words.  You  have 
always  been  so  kiml  to  me  in  the  past,  that  the  re 
membrance  of  it  has  led  me  to  dare  hope  that  your 
goodness  will  not  desert  me  m  the  present  emergency." 

;  "Well,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  rather  enjoying  the 
Doting  man's  evident  discomfiture,  "'pray  go  on." 

'"The  boon  I  have  to  ask,"  began  Kendal,  "will  ? 
either  make  or  mar  my  future." 

"Is  it  so  bad  as  that?"  returned  the  old  gentleman 
iw-itb  assumed  innocence. 

|  ""You  could  never  imagine  what  it  is  that  I  wish 
CO  ask,"  continued  the  young  man. 

"I  might  guess,  perhaps,"  laughed  the  "doctor,  witH 
a  roguish  twinkle  in.  fck  sye. 


PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY  511 

"Surely  you — you  couldn't  have  noticed  the   one 

great  wish  of  my  heart,"  gasped  Kendal.     "I — "      > 

At  that  moment  the  expected  visitor  was  announced; 

|      "Come  and  see  me  in  my  library  this  evening,"  said' 

]  Doctor  Bryan,  grasping  the  young  man's  hand,  "and 

]  we  will  talk  ever  the  matter  you  have  so  much  at 

.'  heart,  and  I  will  give  you  my  answer  in  regard  to  it." 

-3     "You  are  too  good,  sir,"  cried  Kendal,  in  bewilder- 

!  ment. 

At  that  moment  the  entrance  of  the  visitor  put  a 
stop  to  all  further  conversation,  and  Kendal  arose  and 
took  his  leave  after  an  exchange  of  greetings. 

"How  could  he  possibly  have  divined  that  I  was 
thinking  of  asking  him  for  money?"  he  pondered. 

He  heard  Dorothy  singing  at  the  top  of  her  voice  in 
the  drawing-room,  and  he  turned  on  his  heel  in  the 
hallway,  and  walked  in  an  opposite  direction  with  a 
frown  of  impatience  on  his  face. 

Dorothy  saw  him  pass  the  door,  and  she  bit  her  lip 
with  vexation. 

"Of  course  he  heard  me  playing  on  the  piano,  for 
I  thumped  as  loud  as  ever  I  could;  but  he  did  not 
come  in.    It  seems  to  me  he  is  trying  'to  cool  off/  as 
J  we  grrls  in  the  bindery  used  to  say." 

Dorothy  tiptoed  over  to  the  window  as  she  heard 
1  the  front  door  slam  after  him,  and  if  he  had  looked 
I  back  he  would  have  seen  a  very  defiant  though  tear- 
stained  face  peering  earnestly  after  him  from  behind 
the  lace  curtains. 

Kendal  walked  disconsolately  enough  through  the 
spacious  grounds  and  out  into  the  main  road,  little 
Breaming  that  a  strange  fate  was  drawing  him  onward 
.with  each  step  he  took. 


52  PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY 

He  had  traveled  a  mile  or  more  over  the  country:., 
road,  when  suddenly  he  was  startled  by  the  sound  o£ 
horses'  hoofs.  v,j 

The  next  instant,  from  around  the  bend  in  the  road*  r 
a  horse  dashed  riderless,  covered  with  foam,  and  so  * 
near  him  that  he  had  to  spring  aside  or  its  hoofs 
would  have  been  buried  in  his  brain.     One  glance, 
and  a  cry  of  horror  broke  from  his  lips.    It  was  Doc^ 
tor  Bryan's  horse. 

Great  God!  where  was  he?  Kendal  realized  that 
there  had  been  a  terrible  accident,  and  that  at  that  mo 
ment  the  doctor  lay  dying — perhaps  dead — by  the 
road-side. 

In  all  haste  he  rushed  down  the  road  in  the  direction 
whence  the  horse  had  come,  and  around  the  first  bend 
he  beheld  the  prostrate  figure  of  Doctor  Bryan  lying 
covered  with  dust,  his  friend  bending  over  him. 

In  an  instant  he  was  by  his  side.  One  glance,  and 
his  worst  fears  were  realized — the  old  gentleman  had 
been  mortally  injured — he  was  dying.  He  held  out 
his  hand  when  he  saw  Kendal  bending  over  him,  and 
nodded  assent  as  his  companion  briefly  and  hurriedly; 
related  how  the  terrible  accident  had  come  about. 

"I  was  just  about  to  go  for  you,"  said  the  friend.  B 
"The  doctor  has  something  to  say  to  you.  Surely  it  1 
was  the  work  of  Providence  that  you  happened  along  » 
just  now." 

Kendal  bent  over  the  prostrate  form. 

"I — I  am  dying,  Harry!'7  gasped  the  doctor;  -'but 
that — of  which  we  were— talking — this — afternoon- 
is^ — uppermost — in — my — mind.  You — you — Wished 
—me — to — give  my — consent — to — to — your — wooing 
wedding  little — Dorothy.  I — give — it'  — t')  you 


PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY  53 

•—There — and —  now —  with —  my — blessing — for — I — • 
(now — she — cares — for  you.  Six  months — from — to- 
'day — at — noon — my — will — must  be  read  ;  and  on  that 
'day  you — must  marry  her — if  ever — aye — you  must 

•  —be  wedded — ere  that  noon-hour—shall  have  waned. 

j  Then — then — within  that  hour — you  shall  know — the 

j  contents  of — my  will ;  and — remember,  too,  that — ij; 

f  • — is — irrevocable !" 

Harry  Kendal  reeled  back,  like  one  dazed  by  an 
awful  blow. 

;  .  The  suddenness  of  this  affair  had  taken  his  breath 
away.  But  before  he  could  raise  his  voice  in  protest, 
or  utter  one  word  of  the  terrible  mistake  which  the 
old  gentleman  was  laboring  under,  Doctor  Bryan 
breathed  his  last,  and  he  found  himself  betrothed,  as 
it  were,  to  Dorothy,  and  by  the  most  terrible  mistake 
that  ever  a  man  labored  under. 


CHAPTER  VII. 


'A  fortnight  had  passed  since  the  fatal  accident  in 
Brighton  Woods,  and  life  at  Gray  Gables  had  once 
more  resumed  the  even  tenor  of  its  regular  routine. 

The  first  words  that  Doctor  Bryan  had  gasped  out 
to  his  friend,  when  he  regained  consciousness  and 
feund  himself  fatally  injured,  were: 

"Tell — tell — them  at  home — that — everything — must 
go — on — the  same — until — after — my  will — has — been 
read — and  that — must  not  be — until — six — months — 
after — my — decease." 

The  sudden  loss  of  Doctor  Bryan,  the  kind-hearted 


PRETTY   MADCAP   DOSOTHY 
I 

eld  gentleman  who  had  raised  her  from  poverty  to 
great  wealth,  was  a  severe  blow  to  Dorothy.  For  in 
that  short  length  of  time  she  had  learned  to  love  him, 
as  a  daughter  might  have  done,  with  all  the  strength 
of  her  passionate,  girlish  heart. 

The  old  housekeeper  and  the  servants,  who  had  j 
been  in  his  employ  a  quarter  of  a  century  or  more, ! 
mourned  for  him  and  refused  to  be  comforted. 

Great  was  the  excitement  in  the  household  when 
the  friend  who  had  accompanied  Doctor  Bryan  on  that 
ifatal  ride  broke  to  them  the  strange  compact  between 
the  doctor  and  Kendal,  to  which  he  had  been  a  witness. 

He  readily  decided  that  it  was  best  not  to  tell  Doro 
thy  the  exact  situation  of  affairs,  and  that  it  would 
probably  be  more  in  accordance  wih  a  young  girl's 
romantic  idea  of  marriage  for  Kendal  to  woo  her  on 
3ns  own  account,  and  gain  her  consent,  ere  he  breathed 
to  her  that  this  was  Doctor  Bryan's  wishc 

'And  this  was  the  course  that  Kendal  followed. 
'He  allowed  fully  a  month  to  transpire  ere  he  made 
the  slightest  advances  to  her.  Long  and  carefully  he 
had  thought  the  matter  over  in  his  own  mind,  and  had 
concluded  that  there  was  no  way  out  of  the  strange 
betrothal  into  which  he  had  been  forced,  as  it  were, 
against  his  will. 

He  made  up  his  mind  to  accept  the  situation  grace 
fully  and  become  engaged  to  Dorothy,  and  if  he  found 
out  that  she  had  not  been  remembered  in  the  old  gen 
tleman's  will,  he  could  break  it  without  one  word  of 
warning  or  the  least  compunction.  He  noticed,  too, 
that  Dorothy  was  growing  quite  shy  of  him  of  late. 
She  had  been  quite  fond  of  him  in  the  past ;  it  would 
never  do  to  allow  her  to  grow  indifferent  to  him.  He 


PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY  55 

made  up  his  mind  to  settle  the  matter — as  far  as  the 
engagement  was  concerned — at  the  first  opportunity; 
and  one  presented  itself  on  the  very  day  he  made  this 
resolve. 

Dorothy  was  in  the  conservatory  that  afternoon, 
when  he  suddenly  surprised  her,  stealing  up  on  trp- 
toe  behind  her,  clasped  her  in  his  arms,  holding  his 
hands  over  her  eyes,  whispering: 

"Guess  who  it  is,  Dorothy." 

The  struggle  to  escape  those  firm  arms  suddenly; 
ceased.  The  girl  was  dumbfounded  with  amazement. 

«IS  it — can  it  be  you,  Harry — Mr.  Kendal?"  she 
gasped,  breathlessly. 

"Do  you  wish  it  were  some  one  else,  Dorothy?"  he 
whispered,  releasing  her  from  his  arms,  but  catching 
her  hands  in  a  tight  clasp  and  looking  eagerly  down 
into  her  eyes. 

The  girl's  face  flushed  burning  red,  and  her  gaze 
fell  beneath  a  pair  of  dark  eyes  that  seemed  to  search1 
into  her  very  soul.  But  in  an  instant  she  recovered 
something  of  her  old  hoidenish  composure;  and  in 
that  moment  she  remembered,  too,  how  he  had  seemed 
to  slight  her  of  late,  and  her  pride  rebelled  hotly. 

"How  dare  you  frighten  me  so,  Harry  Kendal?" 
she  cried,  drawing  back  and  stamping  her  little  foot, 
her  blue  eyes  blazing  angrily, 

"Are  you  so  very  displeased?"  he  inquired,  re 
proachfully,  adding  quietly:  "If  that  is  the  case,  I  be£ 
your  pardon.  I  shall  never  so  trespass  again ;"  and  he 
dropped  her  hand  and  turned  away,  walking  moodily, 
to  the  window. 

"Gracious!  I  have  done  it  now!"  thought  Dorothy, 
repenting  on  the  instant;  and,  as  he  made  no  effort 


56  PRETTY   MADCAP 

to  turn  around  or  speak  to  her  again,  she  advanced 
slowly  to  where  he  stood  idly  drumming  upon  the 
window-sill. 

"I  wasn't  so  very  angry,"  she  began,  hesitatingly, 
picking  nervously  at  the  blue  ribbons  which  tied  her 
long,  curling  hair.  "I  said  I  wasn't  so  very  angry!" 
repeated  Dorothy,  nervously.  He  heard  her,  but  never, 
turned  his  head,  and  Dorothy  was  at  a  loss  what  to 
say  next  to  rnend  matters.  "LWould  you  like  a  rose?'* 
she  stammered. 

"Thanks— no!"  replied  Kendal,  shortly,  still  with 
out  turning  his  head.  Then,  after  a  brief  pause : 

"  Or  would  you  like  me  to  show  you  a  new  book  of 
poems  I  just  bought?" 

"You  needn't  mind.  Pray  don't  trouble  yourself," 
he  responded. 

Dorothy  looked  at  him  an  instant,  quite  as  though1 
she  was  ready  to  cry;  then  the  best  thing  that  could 
have  happened,  under  the  circumstances,  came  to  her 
relief. 

She  grew  angry. 

"I  wouldn't  show  you  the  book  now,  to  save  your 
life  I"  she  cried,  her  breath  coming  and  going  in  pant 
ing  gasps,  and  her  cheeks  flaming  as  scarlet  as  the  ! 
deep-red  rose  she  had  brought  him  as  a  peace-offering ; 
"nor  would  I  give  you  this  flower.  I'd  tear  it  up  and 
stamp  it  beneath  my  feet  first — you  are  so  mean!" 

He  turned  with  a  very  tantalizing  smile,  and  looked 
at  her  out  of  the  corners  of  his  eyes. 

She  had  hidden  her  face  in  her  hands,  but  by  the 
panting  of  her  breast  he  saw  that  she  was  weeping, 
that  a  storm  of  sobs  was  shaking  her  childish  frame. 


PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY  571 

He  stooped  and  passed  his  arm  lightly  around  the 
slim  waist,  his  hand  holding  hers. 
,     Dorothy  trembled. 

3     "Won't  you  let  me  comfort  you?"  he  asked,  in  that 
;  low,  winning  voice  of  his. 

The  thought  flashed  across  Dorothy's  brain  that,  if 
she  pushed  him  from  her,  he  would  never  again  put 
his  arms  about  her,  and  she  meekly  endured  the  caress 
for  an  instant ;  and  not  being  repulsed,  he  grew  bold 
enough  to  kiss  the  rosy  cheek  that  peeped  out  from 
between  the  white  fingers. 

"I  have  something  to  say  to  you,  Dorothy,"  he 
whispered.  "It  is  this:  I  love  you!  .Will  you  be 
my  wife?" 

Dorothy  had  always  imagined  just  how  a  lover 
should  propose,  but  she  had  never  imagined  anything 
so  commonplace^  as  this. 

He  stooped  to  caress  her  again,  but  she  drew  back. 

"You  frighten  me!"  she  cried;  and  at  these  words 
he  instantly  released  her. 

"It  is  alarming — being  kissed — and  especially  when 
you're  not  used  to  it,  But  that  does  not  answer  my. 
question.  Wrill  you  marry  me,  or  will  you  not?" 
!  "I  don't  know!"  cried  Dorothy,  faintly.  "You 
mustn't  ask  rne;  you  must  talk  to  Mrs.  Kemp  about 
it." 

"I  might  talk  to  Mrs.  Kemp  about  changing  my 
'  room  in  the  house,  or  ask  her  concerning  anything 
belonging  to  the  household,  but  I  couldn't  think  of 
asking  her  to  find  me  a  wife  and  to  seal  the  bargain 
'for  me.  The  'Yes*  or  'No'  must  be  said  by  the  girl 
herself,  as  she  is  the  one  who  is  to  live  with  me  and 
to  make  the  best  or  the  worst  of  the  bargain  through 


38  PRETTY   MADCAP  DOROTHY 

life.    Now,  Dorothy,  I  want  a  plain,  straightforward 
answer.    Tell  me,  will  you  be  my  bride  ?"  < 

She  colored  and  smiled,  and  the  sort  of  shy  half 
fear  which  always  assailed  her  at  his  approach  came 
over  her  now  more  strongly  than  ever,  and  the  quick 
blood  came  rushing  to  her  finger-ends. 

"I — don't  know  what  to  say!"  gasped  Dorothy. 
"I  couldn't  marry  anybody,  I  think." 

His  arms  dropped  from  about  her. 

"Am  I  to  understand,  then,"  he  asked,  in  a  con 
strained  voice,  "that  you  refuse  me?" 

"OR,  I  don't  know!"  cried  Dorothy,  melting  into 
:fresh,  quick  tears.  "I — I — should  want  to  ask  some 
body  about  it  first  before  I  said  'Yes/  " 

He  had  quite  believed  that  she  would  accept  him 
on  the  spot  the  moment  he  proposed,  and  her  failure 
to  do  this  made  him  almost  catch  his  breath  in  as 
tonishment. 

This  uncertainty  in  the  matter  gave  more  zest  to 
his  ardor. 

"You  dislike  me?"  he  questioned,  wondering  if  that 
could  possibly  be. 

"Oh,  no,  no!  I  like  you.    Won't  you  believe  me?" 

He  stepped  back  and  looked  at  her  with  a  sarcastic  I 
smile — looked  at  the  little  figure  leaning  against  the  \ 
fountain,  with  one  hand  resting  on  the  rim  of  it,  the  I 
other  held  out  imploringly  toward  him. 

"Believe  you?  Why  do  you  insist  upon  making  me 
uncivil?"  he  replied.  "I  do  not  believe  you!  I  dare 
say  you  fancy  that  you  are  telling  the  truth;  but  if 
another  man  were  to  come  on  the  scene  with  a  few 
thousands  a  year  more,  and  a  higher  position  in  the 


PRETTY  MADCAP  DOROTHH  59 

Social  scale,  you  would  have  a  very  different  answer 
£or  him  at  your  tongue's  end." 

He  looks  at  her — looks  at  the  innocently  wooing 
5  arms — at  the  tear-stained,  dimpled,  tremulous  face, 
and,  now  that  he  thinks  that  he  can  not  win  her,  all- 
in  an  instant  he  falls  madly  in  love  with  her. 

"You  must  answer  me,  here  and  now!"  he  cried; 
but  Dorothy  turned  from  him,  and,  like  a  startled 
ifawn,  slipped  through  his  outstretched  hands,  through 
the  conservatory,  and  out  of  the  corridor  beyond, 
leaving  him  staring  after  her,  his  handsome  face  pale 
with  tmotion. 

Dorothy  never  paused  until  she  reached  her  own 
room. 

She  closed  and  locked  the  door  with  trembling 
hands  and  beating  heart;  then,  after  the  fashion  of 
young  girls,  she  laughed  and  cried  hysterically  all  in 
a  breath,  dancing  around  the  room  in  a  mad  fashion, 
clapping  her  hands  and  sobbing  out: 

"Oh,  at  last — at  last,  my  hero,  my  ideal  has  turned 
'from  a  block  of  marble  to  human  clay,  and  tells  me 
that  he  loves  me  and  wants  me  to  be  his  wife — me — 
a  silly  little  thing  like  me!"  and  she  paused  before  the 
glass,  wondering  what  he  saw  in  the  pink-and-white 
Iface  reflected  there  to  love  forever  and  ever.  She 
wished  she  knew. 


$0  PRETTY    MADCAP    DOROTHY 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

Dorothy's  merriment  was  soon 'interrupted  by  a 
knock  at  the  door,  and  when  she  opened  it,  panting 
.with  her  exertion  of  dancing  around  the  room,  she 
found  Mrs.  Kemp  standing  there,  with  a  white,  fright 
ened  face. 

"What  in  the  world  is  the  matter  here,  child?'7  she 
cried,  in  alarm.  "I  was  afraid  there  were  burglars, 
or  Heaven  knows  what,  up  here  in  this  room." 

Dorothy  burst  into  a  peal  of  laughter  that  amazed 
the  old  lady  and  made  the  very  walls  echo  with  her 
bright  young  voice. 

"Oh,  something  so  funny  has  just  happened!"  she 
gasped.  "You  will  be  as  much  surprised  as  I  was, 
[Mrs.  Kemp,  when  you  hear  it." 

The  housekeeper  knew  just  what  had  happened,  for, 
although  unknown  to  Dorothy,  she  was  in  the  con 
servatory  when  she  had  entered ;  but  before  she  could 
make  her  presence  known  Kendal  had  appeared  upon 
(the  scene,  and  the  proposal  of  marriage  had  followed 
so  quickly  upon  the  heels  of  it  that  she  felt  she  could 
not  leave  without  embarrassing  both,  so  she  waited  £ 
there  until  they  had  quitted  the  conservatory. 

As  soon  as  she  thought  it  practicable  she  followed- 
Dorothy  to  her  room  to  congratulate  her,  and  the 
sight  that  met  her  view  surprised  her — the  girl's  face, 
instead  of  being  flushed  with  tell-tale  blushes  and 
covered  with  confusion,  as  she  had  expected,  was 
convulsed  with  laughter. 

"Oh,  do  come  in!"  cried  Dorothy,  excitedly.     "I 


PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY  '61' 

have  something  that  I  want  to  tell  you — I  want  you 
•to  decide  for  me  what  is  best  to  do."  - 1 

"I  will  give  you  the  best  advice  I  can,"  said  the  old 
•j  housekeeper,  drawing  the  girl  down  beside  her  on  the 
"  sofa,  and  putting  her  arm  about  her, 
*      "I've    just    had    a — a    proposal    of — of    marriage. 
There!    the   whole    secret    is   out!"    cried    Dorothy; 
breathlessly.  j 

But  the  good  old  lady  did  not  look  a  particle 
amazed,  much  to  Dorothy's  surprise.  j 

"You  do  not  ask  me  who  it  is  that  wants  me,"  cried 
the  girl,  in  bitter  disappointment. 

Mrs.  Kemp  smiled. 

"It  was  very  easy  to  see  that  for  myself,"  she  re 
sponded.  "'Every  one  could  tell  that  Harry  Kendal 
was  very  fond  of  you.  my  dear,  and  that  sooner  or 
later  he  would  ask  you  to  marry  him.  But  tell  me, 
.what  answer  did  you  make  him?" 

"I — I  ran  away  without  making  any  answer  at  all,11 
confessed  Dorothy,  shamefacedly.  "I  thought  I  could 
write  him  a  note  and  put  my  answer  in  it — ever  so 
much  better  than  to  look'  up  into  his  face  and  tell  him," 
she  faltered.  "I  wonder  that  girls  can  ever  say  'Yes* 
right  up  and  down,  then  and  there;  it  seems  so  bold 
a  thing  to  do.  Why,  I  never  felt  so  embarrassed  in 
my  life.  When  I  tried  to  say  something  my  tongue 
j  cleaved  to  the  roof  of  my  mouth.  I  trembled  from 
1  head  to  foot,  and — oh,  gracious ! — he  must  have  heard 
how  my  heart  thumped.  I  know  I  must  have  acted 
like  the  greatest  simpleton  the  world  ever  held.  Wasn't 
it  wonderful  to  think  that  he  wanted  to  marry  me? 
I  can't  understand  it." 

'"It  is  not  so  very  w#*&^-^  '^*  rer^  natural/'  tfe- 


62  PRETTY    MADCAP   DOROTHY 

sponded  Mrs.  Kemp,  warmly.  "I  do  not  know: 
whether  it  is  wise  to  tell  you  so  or  not,  but  you  are 
really  beautiful.  Every  one  thinks  so  hereabouts,] 
And  then  you  are  not  too  young  to  marry— you  are 
seventeen." 

"But  I'm  not  a  bit  wise,"  persisted  Dorothy. 

"You  are  quite  wise  enough  to  suit  the  exacting 
eyes  of  love,"  declared  the  housekeeper,  reassuringly, 
"and  that  is  all  that  is  needed.  The  greatest  of  all 
questions,  however,  is:  Do  you  think  you  care  for, 
Mr.  Kendal  ?  Let  me  tell  you  two  things,  my  dear— 
never  marry  a  man  whom  you  do  not  love ;  and  if  the 
one  whom  you  do  love  asks  you,  do  not  coquet  with 
him." 

"Will  you  help  me  to  write  the  note  to  him?"  cried 
Dorothy,  drawing  up  a  hassock,  and  slipping  down 
upon  it  at  her  companion's  feet.  "I  want  to  write  it 
stiff  and  proud,  as  though  I  didn't  care  much,  and  I 
want  to  get  all  the  big  words  in  it  that  I  can." 

"Of  course  I  will  help  you,"  replied  Mrs.  Kemp. 
*  But  it's  many  a  year  since  I  wrote  a  love  letter,  and 
I'm  a  little  awkward  at  it  now.  But  as  long  as  it 
conveys  the  idea  of  'Yes'  to  him,  your  ardent  lover 
will  think  it  the  grandest  epistle  that  ever  a  yotmg  girl 
•wrote." 

Such  a  time  as  there  was  over  that  letter ! 

Over  and  over  again  it  was  copied,  this  word  erased,  j? 
and  that  word  inserted,  until  at  the  very  best  it  looked'  \ 
more  like  the  map  of  Scotland  than  anything  else. 

Dorothy  was  terribly  in  earnest  over  it. 

One  would  almost  have  thought,  to  have  seen  her, 
that  her  life  was  at  stake  over  the  result  of  it;  but? 


!  PRETTY   MADCAP  DOROTHY  63 

>Bt  last  it  was  finished,  and  one  of  the  servants  was- 
[called  to  take  it  to  Mr.  KendaFs  room. 

Harry  was  pacing  restlessly  up  and  down  when  fo 
:!Was  delivered  to  him.  He  took  it  eagerly  and  broke 
the  seal,  for  he  had  recognized  Dorothy's  cramped, 
school-girl  chirography  at  once. 

"She  is  mine!17  he  cried,  triumphantly;  and  with 
the  knowledge  that  he  had  won  her  without  a  doubt, 
his  ardor  suddenly  cooled ;  he  did  not  know  whether  he 
was  pleased  or  sorry  over  the  result  of  his  wooing. 
•  After  he  had  read  the  letter  over  carefully,  he  fell 
to  scrutinizing  the  chirography. 

"The  first  tiling  I  shall  have  to  do  wiH  be  to  teacK 
the  girl  how  to  write  a  legible  letter,"  he  thought. 

Only  the  day  before  she  had  written  a  letter  to 
Jack,  which  contained  but  the  few  words  that  she 
.was  well  and  happy,  and  that  a  great  change  of  for 
tune  had  come  into  her  life.  But  the  letter  bore 
neither  date,  postmark,  nor  signature,  and  he  could 
cot  tell  where  it  had  been  posted.  I 

But  it  was  the  first  intimation  which  Jack  had  had 
that  she  was  in  the  land  of  the  living,  and  to  have 
,  seen  his  face  as  he  read  it  would  have  touched  a  heart 
of  stone. 

Tears  sprang  to  his  eyes,  strong  young  man  though 

he  was,  and  he  covered  the  half-written  page  witK 

burning  kisses.    To  him  those  irregular,  girlish  strokes 

*!  were  dearer  than  anything  else  this  wide  world  held, 

because  they  were  Dorothy's. 

Although  she  had  suddenly  disappeared,  and  all  her 
(friends  had  turned  against  her  in  the  bindery,  declar 
ing  that  she  had  eloped  with  the  handsome,  dark> 


64  PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY 

eyed  stranger, -he  still  believed  her  true.  He  had  been' 
searching  for  her  ever  since,  without  rest — almost 
without  food — day  and  night,  until  he  had  almost 
worn  himself  out.  !{ 

He  believed  she  was  in  the  city  somewhere,  that 
she  had  been  ashamed  to  return  to  the  bindery  after 
that  scene  on  the  steamer,  and  had  gone  some  place 
else  to  work,  and  he  walked  the  streets  for  hours  at 
a  time,  searching  for  her  among  the  crowds  of  work 
ing-girls  as  they  trooped  down  Broadway  in  laughing, 
chattering  groups  each  evening,  only  to  turn  away, 
alas !  disappointed  and  almost  broken-hearted. 
*  And  thus  another  month  dragged  its  slow  lengtli 
by.  It  was  well  that  he  did  not  know  where  Dorothy 
.was,  or  what  was  occurring  during  those  days  o£ 
suspense. 

The  news  of  her  betrothal  to  handsome  Harry  Ken- 
oal  had  spread  over  the  entire  village,  and  it  caused 
no  little  sensation  in  Yonkers,  on  the  outskirts  of 
.which  Gray  Gables  was  situated;  for  every  one  had 
said  that  this  was  the  way  the  affair  would  terminate 
when  the  doctor  brought  the  handsome  young  stranger 
beneath  the- same  roof  with  dashing,  dark-eyed  Harry; 
EKendal,  the  beau-ideal  of  all  the  girls. 

But   there   was    some   disappointment    when   they;  f 
learned  that  the  marriage  would  not  take  place  foe 
nearly  half  a* year  yet. 

"It's  all  very  well  now,  with  rosy  love  in  their  sky; 
but  delays  are  dangerous,"  said  some  people,  shaking 
their  heads  ominously. 

Dorothy  was  as  happy  as  the  day  was  long,  for 
she  was  learning  to  fairly  adore  her  lover,  and  treated 


?RETTY   MADCAP   BOROTUV  65 

him  i>:  a  childish  fashion  which  rather  amused  every 
'  pne  who  saw  them  together. 

t     If  he  brought  her  a  box  of  bonbons  she  would 
Spring  up  and  throw  her  arms  about  his  neck,  like  an 
overgrown  baby,   and   end  by  giving  him  a  hearty 
sirack  straight  on  the  lips — no  matter  who  was  pres-' 
tnt. 

OriCc  or  twice  hr  had  attempted  to  expostulate  with 
her  sternly,  coldly,  but  his  manner  so  frightened  her 
that  she  almost  went  hito  hysterics,  and  turning  away 
with  a  wh:te,  set  face,  he  would  say  no  more. 

What  couM  he  expect?  he  asked  himself,  grimly. 
He  had  asked  an  untutored  school-girl  to  be  his  wife 
» — he  had  sown  the  wind,  and  now  he  was  commencing 
to  reap  the  whirlwind.  Every  one  else  seemed  highly 
delighted  over  Dorothy's  chi!dish,  romping  ways;  but 
as  for  himself,  they  rankled  upon  his  proud,  sensitive, 
haughty  nature. 

He  loved  her  in  &ixh  a  cool,  lordly  manner,  and 
poor  little  Dorothy  was  always  impressed  with  his 
superiority.  She  was  oiliged  to  acknowledge  that 
Harry  Kendal  was  her  master.  *'.he  could  never  make 
him  her  slave. 

i  At  this  juncture  an  event  happened  that  changed  the 
current  of  poor  Dorothy's  after  life.  It  was  election 
night,  and  the  bonfires  were  blazing  on  hill  and  vale, 
and  all  the  young  people  of  the  viHage  were  wild  with 
enthusiasm  over  the  affair. 

A  great  bonfire  had  been  built  in  the  road  in  front 
of  Gray  Gables,  as  had  been  the  custom  for  ysars. 
The  old'  doctor  had  been  very  patriotic. 

"This  year  there  is  no  one  to  cheer  the  boys  on  in 


66  PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY 

their  good  work/'  said  the  housekeeper,  sadly,  as 
were  ail  standing  out  on  the  porch. 

"Til  do  it,"  cried  Dorothy,  and  before  the  echo  of 
her  words  had  died  away  rousing  cheers  broke  from 
her  lips,  that  were  answered  back  heartily  by  the 
crowd  assembled  with  an  enthusiastic  "Hip,  hip,  hur 
rah,  and  a  tiger !"  for  the  young  lady  of  Gray  Gables. 

Kendal  was  mortally  angry,  and  his  face  grew  dark. 
He  strode  up  to  her  and  grasped  her  shoulder,  his 
fingers  unwittingly  clinching  deeply  into  the  soft  flesh". 

"For  Heaven's  sake,  stop,  you  torn-boy!"  he  cried. 
"Stop  disgracing  me!" 

She  flung  up  her  little  head  proudly.  If  he  had 
spoken  to  her  alone  she  would  not  have  cared,  but 
before  all  these  people !  Oh,  it  was  unbearable.  She 
would  r<*«*nt  it  if  it  killed  her. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

For  an  instant  their  eyes  met — his  blazing  dark  and 
stormy  in  the  clear,  bright  moonlight,  and  his  face 
white  and  wrathy;  even  his  hands  were  clinched 
fiercely. 

AH  in  an  instant  the  old  fire  and  pride  blazed  up 
in  Dorothy  Glenn's  heart. 

"You  shall  not  coerce  me  as  if  I  were  your  very 
slave!"  she  said,  smiting  her  little  hands  together  and 
pushing  him  from  her,  forgetting  in  her  great  anger 
whether  or  not  her  action  accorded  well  with  her 
iHgrmy.  "They  cheered  me,  and  I  shall  respond !" 
nd  before  he  could  utter  one  word  of  protest  she  had 


PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTH\  67 

jjpea  like  a  swallow  down  the  graveled  path  and  out 
through  the  great  arched  gateway  into  the  very  midst 
of  the  throng  of  merry  maidens  and  young  men  who 
were  gathered  with  hilarious  glee  around  the  roaring 
bonfire. 

The  great  stacks  of  burning  barrels  and  boxes  sent 
forth  a  glare  of  red  light  and  columns  of  flame  shoot 
ing  skyward,  lighting  up  the  scene  with  a  grand,  weird 
beauty  that  lent  a  splendor  to  the  night. 

Great  sparks  flew  heavenward,  and  the  crackling 
sounds  mingled  with  the  rousing  cheers  that  rent  the 
air. 

They  all  saw  Dorothy,  the  village  favorite,  flying 
toward  them,  and  the  great  throng  parted  to  make 
way  for  her.  Then  the  sport  of  the  evening  went  on 
with  renewed  vigor. 

"Pile  on  the  barrels!"  cried  one  enthusiastic  fel 
low.    "Whether  the  election  is  going  Democratic  or 
Republican,  let's  all  give  three  cheers  for  the  incom 
ing  -governor  P?  and  a  loud  huzza  that  made  the  old 
town  ring  broke  from  a  couple,  of  hundred  throats, 
but  mingled  with  it  sounded  a  wild  cry  of  mortal  ter- 
,  ror  in  Dorothy's  agonizing  voice. 
L    "Oh,  my  God!  my  eyes — my  eyes!  the  sparks — the 
'Sparks  have  flown  into  them!  They  are  burning!  Oh, 
God!" 

And  witK  tKat'  agonizing  cry  she  fell  backward  it| 
a  dead  faint  in  the  midst  of  the  dazed  crowd. 
I   In  an  instant  the  greatest  confusion  prevailed,  and 
the  shouts  of  laughter  were  turned  to  sobs  of  wailing. 

Kind  hands  quickly  raised  her  and  bore  her  to  the 
House.  We  will  pass  gently,  dear  reader,  over  the 


68  PRETTY  MADCAP  DOROTHY 

two  weeks  that  followed,  for  Gray  Gables  was  buried 
in  the  deepest  sorrow. 

One  of  the  most  pitiful  calamities  that  ever  .could 
have  befallen  a  human  being  had  happened  to  beauti 
ful,  hapless  Madcap  Dorothy.  Poor  child!  she  was 
blind! 

Never  again  would  she  see  the  light  of  the  golden  j 
sunshine — never  again  see  the  green,  waving  grass  J 
and  the  budding  flowerets — never  see  the  blue  sky, 
with  its  fleecy  clouds,  or  the  heavens  at  night  blaz 
ing  with  the  soft,  pale  light  of  the  twinkling  stars— 
never  again  look  upon  a  human  face.    But  while  her 
life  lasted  she  would  grope  through  a  world  of  dark 
ness — blind ! 

The  shock  had  been  terrible  to  both  Mrs.  Kemp 
and  Harry  Ken.dal,  and  oh!  in  her  pitiful  condition 
how  she  clung  to  them! 

41  You  will  not  throw  me  off  now  because  I  am 
blind,  Harry  ?"  she  wailed,  laying  her  head  against  his 
bosom  and  weeping  as  she  had  never  before  wept  in 
all  her  young  life. 

"No!"  he  said,  huskily;  and  that  promise  reassured 
her. 

She  clasped  her  white  arms  around  his  neck  and 
clung  to  him  in  the  abandonment  of  her  pitiful  woe.  I 

She  was  wild  and  willful  Madcap  Dorothy  no 
longer. 

During  the  first  days  of  her  trial  friends  flocked 
to  see  her,  but  as  they  grew  used  to  the  situation  they 
dropped  off,  and  she  was  left  with  only  the  old  house 
keeper,  and  her  lover,  and  the  servants  of  Gray  Qa,- 
bles  for  her  companions. 

At  first  she  grieved  over  the  terrible  calamity. .  witfi 


PRETTY  MADCAP  DOROTHY  69 

aft  the  bitterness  of  her  soul,  then  by  degrees  she  be 
came  reconciled  to  it. 

But  the  one  great  anxiety  of  her  life  was  in  regard 

to  her  lover.     He  had  promised  to  love  her  still  and 

be^trtie  to  her;  but  would  he — woukl  he?    The  very 

thought  alarmed  her  soul  and  became  the  one  terror 

|  of  her  life. 

The  blind  are  always  acute  in  other  senses. 
*  She  felt  intuitively,  as  the  days  wore  on,  that  he 
was  growing  cold  toward  her.  It  was  pitiful  to  see 
her  grasp  the  hands  of  the  little  maid  that  had  been 
engaged  to  take  care  of  her,  and  hear  her  beg  her  to 
dress  her  prettily,  and  to  see  that  every  curl  was  in 
place,  and  the  lace  at  her  throat  and  sleeves  fresh 
and  white. 

"Oh,  Katy,  do  I  look  very  horrible?"  she  would 
whisper,,  in  a  breath  of  intense  agony,  over  and  over 
again  a  hundred  times  during  the  day.  "Are  there 
not  cruel  scars  on  my  face?  Oh,  God!  the  terrible 
fire  burned  my  eyes  to  their  sockets— dry.  Surely  I 
must  be  a  thing  so  horrible  to  the  sight,  that  people 
•who  see  me  turn  away  quickly,  suppressing  a  cry  on 
their  lips.  Is  it  not  so?" 

"Oh,  no,  miss!  Believe  me,  there  is  not  a  scar  on 
your  pretty  face.  Your  cheeks  have  lost  a  little  of 
their  bloom,  that  is  all,  and  the  white  lids  gently 
cover  your  poor  eyes,  and  the  long  lashes  sweep  your 
cheeks.  You  look  as  though  you  were  walking  in 
your  sleep." 

"But   tell   me,    Katy,"   sobbed   Dorothy,    "do   you 
think  Harry  does— do  you   think   Harry   could   love 
nae  as  well  as  before?" 
\    "And  why  not,  miss?"   returned  the   little  maid. 


70  PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY 

"Surely,  with  your  affliction,  he  should  love  you 
doubly  more  than  he  ever  did  before.  You  needn't 
fear  about  my  not  dressing  you  in  your  prettiest,  Miss 
Dorothy.  Sure,  I'm  always  making  little  bows  and 
fancy  things  for  your  dresses,  and  twining  the  love-  f 
liest  of  flowers  in  your  pretty  golden  hair!" 

Dorothy  would  smile  faintly,  piteously,  and  sigh 
ever  so  gently.  J 

Oh,  God!  the  pity  of  groping  around  those  rooms 
<!ay  in  and  day  out!  What  mattered  it  if  she  sat  by; 
the  open  window,  as  she  had  been  wont  to  do?  She 
could  not  see  her  lover  strolling  under  the  rnaple- 
trees,  even  though  she  heard  his  voice  and  knew  he 
was  there. 

She  would  look  upon  his  darkly  handsome  face 
never  again  in  this  world ;  and  at  times  Dorothy's  soul 
grew  so  bitter  over  her  terrible  misfortune  that  she 
wished  she  could  die.  As  for  Harry  Kendal,  after 
the  first  shock  of  intense  pity  over  Dorothy's  un 
happy  fate  was  pa^-t,  he  grew  morose  and  taciturn. 

It  was  bad  enough  to  wed  a  maiden  whom  he  did 
not  love  with  all  his  heart  and  soul — such  as  he  had  ( 
heard  it  expressed  in  the  burning,  eloquent  words  of 
authors  and  poets — but  to  go  through  life  with  a  blind 
woman  at  his  side !  The  very  thought  made  his  soul 
shudder  and  grow  sick  within  him. 

He  dared  not  make  any  attempt  to  break  their  en 
gagement  just  then,  for  public  sentiment  was  strongly 
with  the  girl ;  but  the  chains  that  bound  him  to  her 
began  to  grow  very  heavy. 

Surely  she  ought  not  wish  to  hold  him  in  thraldom 
now.  It  was  irksome  for  him  to  go  where  she  was, 
to  passively  receive  her  caresses  as  well  as  attempt  to 


PRETTY    MADCAP   DOROTHY  4 

stay  fier  burning  tears,  and  to  be  obliged  to  assure  her 
over  and  over  again,  with  every  breath,  that  he  would 
be  sure  to  be  true  to  her. 

Alas!  what  a  slender  thread  of  circumstances  in 
this  world  changes  our  fate  for  weal  or  for  woe ! 

Ever  since  the  accident  had  happened,  and  the  doc 
tors  had  all  pronounced  the  terrible  decree  that  poor 
Dorothy  would  go  through  life  totally  blind,  the  poor 
old  housekeeper  had  been  maturing  a  plan  in  her  head 
which  she  thought  would  be  a  world  of  comfort  to  the 
poor  girl. 

Mrs.  Kemp  had  a  niece  whom  she  had  kept  at 
boarding-school  all  the  girl's  life,  for  she  was  an 
orphan,  and  she  said  to  herself :  "How  grand  a  plan 
it  would  be  to  bring  the  girl  to  Gray  Gables  to  be  a 
companion  to  Dorothy  until  she  marries !" 

Her  niece  was  a  bright,  gay  creature,  and  would 
be  just  the  one  to  cheer  Dorothy  up. 

Mrs.  Kemp  concluded  to  put  this  plan  into  execu 
tion  at  once,  as  there  was  no  one  to  say  nay  in  regard 
to  it,  and  she  wrote  to  her  niece  to  come  on  without 
delay,  little  dreaming  that  this  one  action  would  prove 
the  curse  of  three  lives — aye,  the  bitterest  curse  that 
ever  wrung  a  human  heart,  and  that  heart  poor,  hap 
less  Dorothy's. 

Ah,  me!  how  often  in  this  world  that  which  we 
mean  for  the  greatest  good  turns  out  the  source  of 
the  crudest  woe. 

Dorothy  heard  of  the  plan,  and  agreed  to  it  eagerly. 

"Oh,  thank  you — thank  you  for  the  happy  thought, 
Mrs.  Kemp!"  she  cried;  "for  1  am  lonely — so  pitifully 
lonely.  Yes,  I  would  give  the  world  for  a  girl  of  my 


72  PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY 

own  age  to  be  a  companion  to  me  until — until  I 
marry  Harry." 

Kendal  received  the  intelligence  with  a  look  of  in 
terest  in  his  eyes. 

"When  does  your  niece  come,  Mrs.  Kemp?"  he 
inquired. 

"I  expect  Iris  to  come  to-morrow,"  she  replied. 
And  on  the  following  afternoon  Iris  Vincent  arrived. 

The  carriage  met  her  at  the  depot.  Harry  went  for 
her  himself.  Dorothy  stood  at  the  window,  with 
Katy,  her  faithful  little  maid,  awaiting  Iris'  coming 
with  the  greatest  impatience. 

At  last  the  carnage  stopped  before  the  arched  gate 
way,  and  she  heard  the  sound  of  voices,  then  a  peal 
of  light,  girlish  laughter  ringing  out  above  all  the  rest. 

"Has  she  come?"  whispered  Dorothy. 

"Yes,  miss,"  murmured  the  little  maid,  in  a  low 
voice. 

"What  is  she  like?"  questioned  Dorothy,  eagerly. 

Faithful  little  Katy  looked  out  of  the  window,  then 
at  Dorothy,  a  sudden  lump  rising  in  her  throat  and  a 
great  fear  at  her  heart. 

She  dared  not  tell  her  that  the  strange  young  girl 
v/as  as  beautiful  as  a  poet's  dream — slim  as  a  young 
willow,  dressed  in  the  height  of  fashion,  and,  worse 
still — oh,  a  thousand  times  worse! — she  was  bringing 
aH  her  charms  to  bear  upon  handsome  Harry  Kendal, 
who  was  walking  up  the  graveled  walk  with  her. 

"Why  don't  you  answer  me?"  cried  Dorothy,  im 
patiently. 

"She — she  is  about  your  height,"  stammered  Katy, 
"and — and  she  is  very  plain,  and — and  not  so  fair  as 
you;"  and  Katy  lifted  up  her  face  to  heaven,  clasping 


PRETTY   MADCAP   DO  ROTH"'  73 

her  hands,  whispering  to  herself:  "May  God  forgive 
me  1    It  is  my  first  lie  P 


CHAPTER  X. 

i 

Mrs.  Kemp  hastened  to  the  door  to  meet  her  niece, 
•  and  the  next  moment  the  echo  of  a  gay  young  voice, 
bright  and  joyous,  rang  through  the  corridor. 

"She  must  be  a  very  happy  girl,  and  light  of  heart," 
sighed  Dorothy. 

Katy,  the  maid,  had  nothing  to  say.  Much  to 
Dorothy's  surprise,  they  did  not  come  to  the  room  in 
.which  she  was  awaiting  them,  and  she  heard  them  go 
on  to  the  drawing-room,  and  the  door  close  behind 
them. 

Ten,  twenty  minutes,  half  an  hour  passed,  still  they 
'did  not  come  to  her,  though  the  sound  of  their  merry 
laughter  fell  upon  her  ears  from  time  to  time.  Katy 
tried  to  arouse  her  mistress'  interest,  but  it  was  use 
less — the  girl  never  moved  from  her  position,  sitting 
i  pale  and  white  in  the  great  arm-chair,  with  her  sight- 
i  less  eyes  turned  toward  the  door. 

Suddenly  she  turned  to  Katy  with  a  great  sob. 

"They  have  forgotten  me,"  she  said. 

frCaty  had  come  to  this  conclusion  long  before. 

"I  will  tell  them  you  are  waiting,"  she  replied,  and 
as  she  spoke  she  hurried  from  the  room  to  the  draw 
ing-room.  On  the  threshold  she  came  face  to  face 
with  Mr.  Kendal,  and  at  a  glance  she  could  not  help 
but  notice  the  happy,  flushed  look  on  his  face. 

"Miss  Dorothy  sent  me  in  search  of  you,  sir,"  she 


74  PRETTY   MADCAP  DOROTHY! 

said,  with  a  low  courtesy,  f  he  smile  on  his  lips  die  ^ 
away  in  an  instant,  giving  place  to  a  dark  frown  of 
impatience. 

"What  does  she  want?"  he  asked,  sharply* 

"She  says  she  is  so  lonesome,  sir,  and  sent  me  to 
tell  you  so." 

"Is  there  a  minute  of  my  life  that  she  is  not  send 
ing  for  me — expecting  me  to  be  at  her  beck  and  call  ?" 
he  said.  "I  am  going  out  into  the  conservatory  to 
get  some  flowers  for  Miss  Vincent.  I  guess  it  won't 
hurt  Dorothy  to  wait  a  little  while,  will  it  ?" 

"Is  that  what  I  shall  tell  her?"  asked  the  girl, 
quietly. 

"Tell  her  whatever  you  like,"  he  said  to  the  girl, 
hurrying  on  and  leaving  her  standing  there  with  a 
very  white,  sorrowful  face. 

Slowly  she  walked  back  to  the  breakfast-room,  hep 
heart  burning  with  indignation.  Dorothy  met  her. 
eagerly. 

"'Are  they  coming?"  she  asked. 

"Very  soon  now,  miss,"  replied  Katy. 

"What  delayed  them?" 

"I—I  think  they  were  getting  a  cup  of  tea  for  the 
strange  young  lady,  miss.  You  know  she  came  quite 
a  long  way,  and  she  must  be  very  tired." 

"Why,  that  is  very  true,"  said  Dorothy.  "I  won 
der  that  I  never  thought  of  that  before.  It  seemed 
as  though  I  was  not  missed,"  and  a  sigh  trembled 
over  the  girl's  pale  lips  as  she  spoke. 

A  few  moments  later  Kendal's  step  was  heard  in 
the.  corridor* 

Dorothy  sprang  eagerly  to  meet  him,,  and  threw  hel 
arms  impulsively  around  his  neck. 


PRETTY  MADCAP  DOROTHY  75! 

Was  it  only  her  fancy,  or  did  he  draw  back  from 
the  usual  caress  as  though  he  did  not  care  to  receive 

it? 

Oh!  surely  not.  Since  this  horrible  blindness  had 
come  upon  her,  her  imagination  was  running  riot 
against  her  judgment.-  The  one  great  fear  of  her  life 
was  that  he  might  cease  to  love  her,  now  that  this 
great  affliction  had  come  upon  her,  and  she  noted 
every  word,  every  action,  and  every  touch  of  his  dear 
hand,  and  weighed  it  over  in  her  mind,  for  hours  at 
a  time,  when  she  found  herself  alone. 

God  pity  her  if  that  love  should  ever  fail  her! 

"Shall  Miss  Vincent  see  me  soon,  Harry ?"  she 
asked,  nestling  her  head  against  his  shoulder,  her  lit 
tle  hands  seeking  his. 

"Very  soon  now,"  he  responded.  Was  it  her  fancy, 
or  did  even  his  voice  seem  changed? 

"Do  you  like  her?'7  asked  Dorothy^*  wist  fully. 

"Like  her?"  he  cried.    "Why.  she  is  charming!" 

"Is  she  fair  of  face?'7  askecl  Dorothy,  slowly. 

"The  most  beautiful  girl  I  have  ever  seen!"  he 
cried,  enthusiastically,  all  forgetful  of  the  girl  by  his 
side,  to  whom  his  troth  was  plighted. 

The  words  struck  Dorothy's  heart  with  a  cold  chill, 
as  a  blast  of  icy  winter  wind  strikes  death  to  the  heart 
of  a  tender  hot-house  flower  when  its  chill  breath 
sweeps  across  it. 

"They  say  you  went  down  to  the  train  to  meet  her," 
Said  Dorothy. 

"Yes;  Mrs.  Kemp  wanted  me  to,"  he  responded; 
"and  I  shall  never  forget  that  meeting  with  her  niece 
while  life  lasts,  it  was  so  ludicrous.  I  arrived  at  the 
depot  just  as  the  train  had  stopped,  and  the  passengers 


76  PRETTY  MADCAP  DOROTHY 

\vere  already  pouring  from  the  car.  In  my  haste  to 
reach  the  throng  I  slipped  upon  a  banana  peel,  and  the 
next  instant  I  was  plunging  headlong  forward,  bump 
ing  straight  into  an  old  lady  carrying  numerous  bun 
dles  and  boxes,  who  had  just  alighted  from  the  train. 

"There  was  a  crash  and  a  yell,  and  a  roar  of  laugh 
ter  from  the  by-standers ;  and  no  wonder,  for  I  had 
crashed  directly  into  a  huge  jar  of  jam  which  she  held 
in  her  hand,  and  in  less  time  than  it  takes  to  tell  it 
I  was  completely  besmeared  with  it  from  head  to  foot. 
For  once  in  my  life  I  got  enough  jam  in  my  mouth, 
and  as  I  scrambled  to  my  feet  I  beheld  a  young  lady 
standing  before  me  screaming  with  laughter. 

"At  a  glance  I  knew  it  could  be  none  other  than 
Miss  Vincent.  What  I  said  as  I  hastily  stepped  up 
to  her  is  but  a  confused  memory  to  me.  I  managed 
to  articulate  that  I  had  been  sent  from  Gray  Gables 
,\vith  a  carriage  for  her.  The  more  I  said  the  more 
she  screamed  with  laughter,  in  which  I  could  not  help 
joining  to  have  saved  my  life. 

"  'What !  ride  through  the  town  with  a  jammed-up 
man  like  that!'  she  ejaculated.  'Why,  that  would  be 
too  sweet  for  anything — so  sweet  that  all  the  bees  in 
the  clover  fields  we  passed  would  come  flying  after  us 
to  enjoy  the  sport/ 

"The  laugh  that  followed  fairly  made  the  rafters 
of  the  old  depot  ring;  and  at  this  juncture  a  friend  in 
need  came  to  my  assistance — one  of  my  old  chums — 
and  in  a  trice  had  stripped  off  my  coat  and  hat,  a"nd 
replaced  them  by  a  new  overcoat  and  Derby  hat  which 
he  had  just  purchased.  Arid  when  the  luckless  jarA 
was  washed  from  my  face  'Richard  was  himself 
again.' 


PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY  771 

11  *isrow  you  look  something  like  a  respectable  hu 
man  being/  she  declared,  as  I  helped  her  into  the 
carriage.  j 

"And  all  during  the  drive  home  we  fiatf  the  greatest 
kind  of  a  laugh  over  my  ludicrous  mishap.  It  was 
forming-  each  other's  acquaintance  under  difficulties, 
a?  she  phrased  it.  I  can  truthfully  say  that  I  never, 
was  so  much  embarrassed  before  a  young  girl  in  all 
my  life.  But  do  you  know,  Dorothy,"  he  went  on, 
"that  that  laughable  incident  which  happened  made 
us  better  acquainted  with  each  other  during  that  half 
hour's  ride  home  than  if  we  had  met  under  ordinary; 
circumstances  and  known  each  other  for  long 
months  ?" 

Dorothy  laughed  heartily  at  the  highly  amusing 
scene  which  he  pictured  so  graphically,  and  said  to 
herself  that  now  she  could  understand  why  Harry  and 
this  strange  young  girl  were  laughing  so  gayly  to 
gether  as  they  came  up  the  graveled  walk. 

"You  will  be  sure  to  like  her,"  cried  Harry,  en 
thusiastically.  "I  will  go  and  fetch  her  to  you  now/' 

But  just  as  he  was 'about  to  put  his  intention  into 
execution,  they  heard  the  voice  of  Mrs.  Kemp  and 
her  niece  outside,  and  they  entered  an  instant  later. 

"Dorothy,"  said  Mrs.  Kemp,  "my  niece,  Iris,  is 
here.  Iris,  this  is  Dorothy.  J  am  sure  you  two  girls 
will  love  each  other  dearly." 

Dorothy  turned  hastily  toward  the  direction  from 
whence  the  sound  proceeded,  holding  out  her  little 
white  hands  nervously,  a  great  hectic  flush  stealing  up 
into  her  pale  face. 

"Welcome  to  Gray  Gables,  Miss  Vincent— Iris," 
she  said  in  her  sweet,  tremulous,  girlish  voice.  "\ 


78  PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY 

*— I  would  cross  the  room  to  where  you  are  standing, 
if  I  could,  but  I  can  not.  I  can  not  look  upon  yoiu* 
face  to  welcome  you,  for — I  am — blind  I" 

There  was  a  frou-frou  of  skirts  upon  the  velvet 
carpet,  and  the  next  moment  Iris  Vincent's  arms  were 
about  her. 

"There  could  not  be  a  sweeter  welcome,  Dorothy 
— if  I  may  call  you  so — and  I  am  sure  we  shall  get 
on  famously  together/'  murmured  Miss  Vincent,  and 
a  pair  of  ripe  red  lips  met  Dorothy's ;  but  the  kiss  was 
as  light  as  the  brush  of  a  butterfly's  wings  against  the 
petals  of  a  rose,  and  there  was  no  warmth  in  the  clasp_ 
of  the  soft,  ringed  fingers. 

Somehow,  although  the  stranger's  voice  was  sweet 
as  the  sound  of  a  silver  lute,  and  her  manner  cares 
sing,  Dorothy  did  not  feel  quite  at  home  with  her. 

"If  I  should  judge  by  the  tone  of  her  voice  and  the 
words  she  utters,  my  fancy  would  lead  me  to  believe 
that  she  was  very  beautiful,"  thought  Dorothy.  "But 
then  Katy  said  that  she  was  plain,  very  plain  of  face, 
although  Harry  has  said  that  she  was  beautiful.  No 
doubt  he  wranted  to  leave  a  good  impression  on  my 
mind  regarding  her." 

The  evening  that  followed  was  a  happy  one  for 
Dorothy,  because,  even  without  being  coaxed,  Harry 
signified  his  intention  of  remaking  in  the  house,  in 
stead  of  going  out  to  the  club,  as  was  his  custom. 

It  had  always  been  a  deep  grievance  of  Dorothy's 
that  her  musical  accomplishments  were  so  meager. 

She  only  knew  a  few  accompaniments  that  she  had 
picked  up,  while  Miss  Vincent  played  divinely. 

And  her  voice — ah !  it  sounded  like  the  chiming  of 
silver  bells.  And  then,  too,  she  knew  so  many  beauti- 


PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY  79, 

'ful  songs,  and  they  were  all  such  tender  love  songs. 

She  was  so  glad  that  Harry  liked  them,  too,  and 
her  poor  face  would  flush  scarlet,  and  her  white  lids 
droop  over  her  sightless  eyes,  as  the  sweet  singer's 
voice  rose  and  thrilled  over  some  tender  love  words; 
for  she  felt  sure  that  her  Harry  was  looking  at  her 
with  ail  love's  tender  passion  in  his  glorious  dark  eyes. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

It  was  quite  late  when  the  group  that  was  gathered 
in  the  drawing-room  dispersed  that  evening ;  but  when 
the  girls  found  themselves  alone  in  their  own  room, 
which  they  were  to  share  together,  they  sat  down  for 
a  comfortable  chat  ere  they  retired. 

"Do  you  think  you  will  like  Gray  Gables?"  asked 
Dorothy.  ^ 

"It  seems  pleasant  enough,"  returned  Iris,  with  3 
yawn ;  "but  it's  not  the  house  so  much,  it's  the  people 
in  the  neighborhood.  Are  there  many  young  folks 
hereabouts  ?" 

"Quite  a  number." 

"Are  they  very  jolly,  or  are  they  terribly  dull?" 

"Well,  about  as  jolly  as  Mr.  Kendal,"  laughed 
Dorothy.  "He's  not  so  very  jolly,  and  yet  he  is  won 
derfully  good  company." 

"Yes,  he  is  indeed,"  assented  Miss  Vincent.  "Is 
Be  rich?"  she  asked,  point-blank,  in  the  very  next 
breath. 

"No,"  returned  Dorothy;  "but  he  may  be  well  off 
some  day,  I  hope." 


80  PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY 

"Handsome  and  poor!  That's  too  bad — that's  a 
poor  combination!"  sighed  Miss  Vincent,  her  count 
enance  falling.  "But  tell  me  about  him,  Dorothy, 
and — and  how  he  ever  happened  to  take  a  fancy  to  a 
quiet  little  mouse  like  yourself.  I  have  heard  that 
it  was  your  guardian's  wish,  as  he  was  dying,  and 
that  the  idea  was  quite  a  surprise  to  him — to  Mr. 
Kendal,  I  mean.  Is  that  true?" 

"Yes,"  assented  Dorothy,  thoughtlessly  enough. 

She  would  not  have  answered  the  question  in  that 
way  could  she  have  seen  the  eager  anxiety  on  the  face 
of  the  girl  who  asked  it. 

"Does  he  make  love  to  you  very  much?"  whispered 
Iris,  laying  her  soft  cheek  close  against  the  blind  girl's. 
"Forgive  the  question,  but,  do  you  know,  I  have  al 
ways  had  a  longing  to  know  just  what  engaged  people 
said  to  each  other  and  how  they  acted — whether  they 
grew  more  affectionate,  or,  after  the  grand  climax  of 
an  engagement  had  been  entered  into,  if — if  somehow 
they  did  not  act  a  little  constrained  toward  each 
other." 

Dorothy  laughed  long  and  merrily  at  the  quaint 
ideas  of  her  new  friend.  But,  then,  no  doubt  all 
girls  wished  to  know  that.  She  had  done  so  herself 
once. 

"You  do  not  answer  me,"  murmured  Miss  Vincent. 
"Now,  please  don't  be  unkind,  Dorothy,  when  I'm 
just  dying  to  know." 

"Well,"  said  Dorothy,  waxing  very  confidential, 
after  the  fashion  of  girls,  "I'll  tell  yon  my  experience; 
but  mind,  I  don't  say  that  it  is  like  every  other  girl's. 
Harry  has  been  just  a  trifle  bashful  ever  since  the 
afternoon  that  he  asked  nie  to — to  be  his  wife.  an4 


PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY  81 

just  a  little  constrained ;  but  I  always  account  for  it  in 
this  way :  that  he  does  not  want  me  to  think  him  silly 
and  spoony.  He  has  grown,  oh !  ever  so  dignified. 
iWhy,  he  hardly  ever  says  anything  more  about  love- 
he  thinks  he  has  said  all  there  is  to  say.  And  his 
caresses  are  the  same  way — just  a  little  bit  con 
strained,  you  know." 

.       Iris  Vincent  had  learned  all  she  cared  to  know. 
!      "Thank  you,  dear,  ever  so  much,   for  gratifying- 
my  curiosity,"  she  said  aloud;  but  in  her  own  heart 
she  said : 

"I  knew  it — I  knew  it!  Handsome  Harry  Kendal 
does  not  love  this  girl  with  whom  they  have  forced 
him  into  a  betrothal.  No  wonder  he  looks  sad  and 
melancholy,  with  a  prospect  before  him  of  marrying 
a  blind  wife!  Ah,  me!  it  is  too  dreadful  a  fate  to 
even  contemplate." 

She  looked  complacently  in  the  mirror  at  her  own 
face.  Well  might  Harry  Kendal  have  remarked  that 
it  was  as  beautiful  as  a  poet's  dream. 

Nothing  could  have  been  more  exquisitely  lovely 

than  the  deep,  velvety,  violet  eyes,  almost  purple  in 

their  glorious  depths,  and  the  bronze-gold  hair,  such 

j  as  Titian  loved  to  paint,  that  fell  in  heavy  curls  to  her 

slender  waist. 

j  One  would  scarcely  meet  in  a  life-time  a  girl  of 
such  wondrous  loveliness.  Iris  was  only  twenty,  but 
already  she  had  broken  hearts  by  the  score. 

She  had  only  to  smile  at  a  man  with  those  ripe, 
red,  perfect  lips,  and  give  him  one  glance  from  those 
mesmeric  eyes,  and  he  was  straightway  her  slave. 
!And  she  gloried  in  her  power. 

Thrice  she  had  broken  up  betrothals,   and  tlires 


'82  PRETTY  MADCAP  DOROTHY 

young  girls  were  heart-broken  in  consequence,  and  had 
lifted  up  their  anguished  voices  and  cursed  her  for. 
her  fatal  beauty.  But  Iris  only  laughed  her  mellow, 
wicked  little  laugh  when  she  heard  of  it,  and  said: 
if.  "Poor  little  simpletons!  Before  they  engage  them-  * 
selves  they  ought  to  have  been  sure  that  they  held 
their  lovers'  hearts  completely.  It  were  better  for 
them  to  realize  before  than  after  marriage  that  the 
men  they  meant  to  stake  their  all  upon  could  prove 
fickle  at  the  first  opportunity  when  a  pretty  girl 
crossed  their  paths." 

And  who  could  say  that  there  was  not  some  little 
truth  in  this? 

The  two  girls  whose  paths  were  to  cross  so  bitterly 
slept  peacefully  side  by  side  that  night;  but  long  after 
Iris'  eyes  had  closed  in  slumber,  Dorothy  lay  awake 
with  oh !  such  a  heavy  load  on  her  heart. 

She  wished  she  was  gay  and  bright,  like  Iris,  and 
oh)  what  would  she  not  have  given  only  to  see — only 
to  see  once  again !  And  she  turned  her  face  to  where 
she  knew  the  moonlight  lay  in  great  yellow  bars  on  the 
floor,  and  sobbed  as  she  had  never  sobbed  since  she 
had  become  blind,  and  fell  asleep  with  the  tear-drops 
staining  her  pale  face,  a  long,  deep  sigh  trembling  over 
her  lips. 

Both  girls  awoke  early  the  next  morning. 

"When  do  you  have  breakfast?"  asked  Iris,  with  a 
yawn, 

"At  eight  o'clock,"  said  Dorothy;  '"so  we  need 
not  be  in  a  hurry  about  getting  up.  It  can  not  be 
Snore  than  six  now." 

"Oh,  dear!  then  I  shall  have  to  get  up  at  once," 
cried  Iris;  "for  it  takes  me  fully  that  long  to  dress." 


PHETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHV  83 

hours V  cried  Dorothy,  amazed,  adding: 
"Why,  just  put  on  a  wrapper.  Nobody  here  ever 
thinks  of  making  a  toilet  to  appear  at  the  break 
fast-table.  There  is  no  one  but  Mrs.  Kemp,  Harry, 
you  and  I." 

She  could  not  catch  Iris*  unintelligible  reply,  but 
she  noticed  that  the  girl  was  not  to  be  persuaded. 

She  commenced  dressing  at  once. 

Soon  Dorothy  detected  a  strange  odor  of  burning 
paper  in  the  room. 

"What  is  that?"  she  cried,  in  alarm.     "Oh,  Miss 
[Vincent,  the  house  must  be  on  fire!" 

Iris  laughed  long  and  loud. 

"You  delightful,  innocent  little  goose!"  she  cried. 
"I  am  only  curling  my  bangs  with  an  iron  heated 
over  the  gas,  and  I'm  trying  the  tongs  on  paper  to 
see  that  they  are  not  too  hot.  J  put  my  curls  up  ia 
paper  last  night,  but  the  horrid  old  things  wouldn't 
curl  because  of  the  damp  atmosphere,  and — "  She 
did  not  finish  the  sentence  for  Dorothy  supplied  it  in 
her  own  mind — "her  new  friend  was  desirous  of 
looking  her  best." 

Harry  was  pacing  impatiently  up  and  down  the 
breakfast-room  when  they  entered. 

"Good-morning,  Miss  Vincent;  good-morning, 
Dorothy !"  he  exclaimed,  eagerly ;  and  Dorothy's  heart 
gave  a  quick  start,  noting  that  he  called  her  name 
last. 

And  another  thing  struck  Dorothy  quite  forcibly* 
To  her  great  surprise,  she  noticed  that  Iris  spoke  in 
quite  a  different  tone  from  what  she  did  when  they 
were  alone  together  in  their  own  room. 

There  her  accents  were  drawling,  but  now  they  were 


84  PRETTY   MADCAP  DOROTHY 

so  wonderfully  sweet  and  musical  that  Dorothy  was 
struck  with  wonder.  She  never  knew  that  a  person 
could  speak  in  two  different  tones  of  voice  like  this. 

At  the  breakfast-table  the  conversation  was  bright 
and  merry,  though  outside  the  rain  had  commenced 
to  patter  against  the  window-pane. 

Dorothy  felt  strangely  diffident,  for  only  a  small 
portion  of  the  conversation  was  directed  now  and  then 
to  her,  and  Harry  and  Miss  Vincent  kept  up  sucli  a 
lively  chatter  that  there  was  scarcely  an  opportunity; 
to  get  in  a  word  edgewise. 

The  conversation  turned  upon  horseback  riding^ 
and  it  brought  a  strange  pang  to  Dorothy's  heartj 
for  that  had  been  the  most  pleasurable  accomplishment 
she  had  learned  during  the  first  few  weeks  she  had 
been  at  Gray  Gables,  and  she  loved  it  passionately. 

In  the  very  hour  when  they  told  her  that  she  would 
for  evermore  be  blind — stone-blind — the  cry  that  had 
sprung  to  her  lips  was,  "And  can  I  never  again  ride 
Black  Beauty?"  and  she  bowed  her  head  in  a  storm 
of  wild  and  tempestuous  grief. 

For  many  a  day  after  Harry  would  not  even  have 
the  name  of  Black  Beauty  mentioned  in  her  hearing. 
And  now  how  strange  that  he  should  bring  up  the 
subject  in  her  presence!  j 

"I  am  sorry  it  is  raining,  Miss  Vincent,"  he  said, 
"for  I  had  promised  myself  such  a  pleasure  for  this 
morning.  I  had  intended  asking  you  to  join  me  in 
a  canter  over  the  country.  This  is  just  the  season 
of  the  year  to  enjoy  the  bracing  air.  We  have  a  little 
horse  in  the  stable  that  would  delight  you,  if  you  are 
a  judge  of  equine  flesh.  Its  very  name  indicates  what 


PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY  85 

it  is — Black  Beauty.     You  ride,  of  course  ?" — this  in 
terrogatively. 

"Oh, -yes!"  declared  Iris;  "and  I  always  thought  it 
would  be  the  height  of  my  ambition  if  I  could  own  a 
horse." 

"That  would  be  a  very  slight  ambition  to  gratify," 
i  returned  Harry  Kendal.     "You  may  have — " 
j     He  was  about  to  add,  "Black  Beauty,"  but  at  that 
3  instant  his  eyes  fell  upon  Dorothy.     She  was  leaning 
forward,  her  sightless  eyes  turned  in  his  direction, 
with  a  world  of  anguish  in  them  that  would  have 
melted  a  heart  of  stone. 

Mrs.  Kemp  saw  the  storm  approaching,  and  said,, 
hastily : 

"I  have  always  been  thinking-  of  buying  a  pony  for 
my  niece,  and  if  she  is  a  very  good  girl,  she  may  get 
one  for  Christmas." 

Harry  looked  his  thanks  to  Mrs.  Kemp  for  coming 
to  his  rescue  so  timely. 

Dorothy  lingered  after  the  others  had  left  the 
breakfast-room,  and  called  to  Harry  to  wait  a  minute, 
as  she  wished  to  speak  with  him. 

:k  He  had  a  guilty  conscience ;  he  knew  what  was  com 
ing.  She  meant  to  ask  him  if  he  intended  offering 
Black  Beauty  to  Miss  Vincent,  and,  of  course,  he  made 
up  his  mind  to  deny  it. 


8r  PRETTY   MADCAP  DOROTHY 

CHAPTER  XII. 

The  long  weeks  that  had  passed  since  the  never-to-| 
be-forgotten  steamboat  incident  on  Labor  Day  passed 
like  a  nightmare  to  poor  Jack  Garner.  | 

Slowly  but  surely  the  knowledge  had  come  to  him  1 
that  Dorothy,  his  little  sweetheart,  had  faded  like  a  * 
dream  from  his  life;  and  as  this  became  a  settled  fact 
in  his  mind,  his  whole  nature  seemed  to  change. 

He  grew  reckless,  morbid,  and  gay  by  turns,  until 
his  old  mother  grew  terrified,  fearing  for  his  reason. 
His  whole  heart  had  been  in  his  work  before  and  his 
one  aim  in  life  had  been  to  make  money. 

He  had  saved  quite  a  snug  little  sum,  which  he  very 
prudently  placed  in  the  bank. 

Now,  to  his  mother's  horror,  his  recklessness  lost 
him  his  position,  and  he  did  not  have  enough  ambi 
tion  to  try  and  secure  another  place,  but  commenced 
to  draw  his  little  hoard  from  the  bank,  and  his  money 
was  disappearing  like  snow  before  a  summer's  sun. 

He  began  coming  in  late  at  nights,  as  well,  and  the 
widow,  who  listened  for  his  footsteps,  cried  out  in  | 
anguish:     "Would  to  God  that  I  had  died  ere  I  had 
lived  to  see  this  horrible  change  take  place  in  my 
idolized  son !" 

His  cousin  Barbara  keenly  felt  the  change  in  him, 
It  was  she  who  comforted  the  poor  old  mother,  anJ 
who  pleaded  with  Jack  to  try  and  take  up  the  duties 
of  life  again,  and  to  forget  faithless  Dorothy. 

But  he  would  only  shake  his  head,  and  answer  that 
he  would  never  cease  to  love  Dorothy  and  search 
for  her  while  life  lasted.  But  troubles  never  seem 


PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY  87 

to  come  singly.  One  day,  as  Jack  was  pacing  rest 
lessly  up  and  down  Broadway — the  vantage-ground 
which  he  always  sought  at  six  o'clock  each  evening,  to 
scan  the  faces  of  the  working-girls  as  they  passed, 
with  the  lingering  hope  in  his  heart  that  some  day, 
sooner  or  later,  his  vigilance  would  be  rewarded  by 
seeing  Dorothy — a  terrible  accident  happened  which 
almost  cost  him  his  life. 

An  old  sign  on  one  of  the  corner  buildings,  which' 
had  done  service  many  a  year,  suddenly  fell,  and  Jack 
—poor  Jack,  was  knocked  senseless  to  the  pavement. 

Surely  it  was  the  workings  of  Providence  that 
Jessie  Staples  happened  along  just  at  that  critical 
moment. 

With  a  wild,  bitter  cry  she  sprang  forward,  fling 
ing  herself  upon  the  prostrate  body,  shrieking  out 
as  she  saw  his  handsome,  white  face  with  the  stains 
of  blood  upon  it : 

"Oh,  Heaven  have  mercy!  It  is  Jack — Jack  Gar 
ner!" 

Kindly  hands  raised  him.  No,  he  was  not  dead— 
only  stunned,  and  terribly  bruised. 

A  cab  was  hastily  summoned,  and,  accompanied  by 
Jessie,  he  was  taken  home. 

The  girl  broke  the  sad  news  gently  to  Jack's  mother 
and  to  Barbara.  It  was  many  and  many  a  day  be 
fore  Jack  left  his  couch ;  the  accident  had  proved 
more  dangerous  than  had  been  at  first  anticipated,  for 
brain  fever  had  set  in. 

Every  day  on  her  way  home  from  the  book-bindery 
Jessie  would  go  several  blocks  out  of  her  way  to  sec 
how  Jack  was  getting  along,  and  Barbara  an  )  his 
tnother  soon  discovered  that  it  was  something  more 


88  PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY 

than  mere  friendship  that  actuated  the  girl's  visits. 
'Although  against  their  expostulations,  every  cent  that 
she  could  scrape  together,  over  and  above  the  cost 
of  the  bare  necessities  of  her  living,  she  would  ex 
pend  for  fruit  to  bring  to  Jack. 

"I  feel  such  a  great  pity  for  him,"  she  would  say; 
"for  he  has  never,  never  been  the  same  since  Dorothy 
disappeared  so  suddenly."  And  they  would  look  at 
the  girl  with  wistful  eyes,  realizing  that  in  her  case, 
surely,  pity  was  akin  to  love. 

They  guessed  Jessie's  secret  long  before  she  knew 
it  herself,  and  they  felt  sorry  for  her;  for  they  knew 
her  hopes  were  useless — that  Jack  could  never  return 
the  girl's  love. 

Jack's  mother  and  Barbara  talked  the  matter  over 
carefully,  and  concluded  that  it  was  best  for  the  girl's 
peace  of  mind  to  break  up  this  infatuation,  if  they 
could,  at  once. 

At  this  epoch  an  event  happened  which  turned  the 
tide  of  affairs  into  a  strange  channel. 

By  the  death  of  a  relative  Jack  suddenly  found 
himself  possessed  of  a  fortune. 

He  heard  the  startling  news  with  a  white,  calm,  un 
moved  face,  while  his  mother  and  Barbara  almost  went 
wild  with  joy  over  it. 

"'It  matters  little  to  me  now,"  he  said.  "Wealth 
1ms  no  charms  for  me."  And  they  well  knew  why. 

The  intelligence  came  like  a  thunderbolt  to  Jessie 
Staples. 

It  was  Mrs.  Garner  who  told  about  it  while  the 
family  were  gathered  about  the  tea-table. 

The  girl's  face  grew  white  as  death,  and  she  looked 
over  at  Jack  with  startled  eyes. 


PRETTY    MADCAP    DOROTHY  89 

Before  she  could  ask  the  question  that  sprang  to 
ter  lips,  Mrs.  Garner  added : 

"Of  course  this  will  make  a  great  change  in  Jack's 
prospects.  He  says  that  we  shall  soon  leave  the  little 
cottage  and  go  out  West  somewhere — Barbara  and  I 
and  himself — and  that  we  will  leave  New  York  City 
far  behind  us,  as  there  is  no  tie  that  binds  him  here 
now." 

Jessie  tried  to  speak,  but  the  words  refused  to  come 
to  her  icy  lips.  She  made  an  effort  to  raise  her  eyes 
to  Jack's  face,  with  a  careless  smile;  but  it  was  a 
failure — a  dire  failure. 

The  table  seemed  to  suddenly  rise  and  dance  be 
fore  her. 

She  rose  hastily,  with  a  wild  prayer  that  she  might 
get  quickly  out  of  the  room,  for  she  felt  her  throat 
dioking  up  with  great  sobs,  and  realized  that  in  an  in 
stant  more  she  would  have  burst  into  tears. 

Poor  Jessie  Staples  took  one  step  forward,  then  fell 
unconscious  at  Jack's  feet. 

"Why,  what  in  the  world  can  be  the  matter  with 
Jessie?"  he  cried,  raising  her  in  his  strong  arms.  "Is 
she  ill?  Let  us  send  for  a  physician — -quick!" 

"Stay!"  said  his  mother,  as  he  deposited  Jessie  on 
the  sofa  and  turned  quickly  to  put  this  last  thought 
into  execution.  "Jessie's  trouble  is  one  which  no 
physician  can  alleviate.  It  is  an  affair  of  the  heart." 

Jack  looked  at  his  mother  in  amazement. 

"An  affair  of  the  heart?"  he  repeated.  "Surely  not, 
mother.  Why,  I  have  known  Jessie  ever  since  I  can 
remember,  and  I  never  knew  her  to  have  a  beau." 

"Perhaps  she  has  given  her  heart  to  some  one  who 


90  PRETTY    MADCAP   DOROTHY 

does  not  return  her  love — who  may  not  even  know  of 
it,"  suggested  Mrs.  Garner,  quietly. 

" Impossible, 7;  declared  Jack.  "I  have  known  hes 
for  years,  I  say,  and  if  there  was  an  affair  of  the 
heart  between  Jessie  and  any  of  the  young  men  at  the 
bindery,  I  should  have  known  something  of  it." 

Mrs.  Garner  came  nearer  and  laid  her  hand  on  hefi 
son's  arm. 

"Are  you  sure,  Jack?"  she  asked,  in  a  low  voice. 

He  gave  a  great  start. 

"I  know  of  one  whom  she  loves,  and  who,  she 
knows,  never  thinks  of  her.  When  his  life  hung  ia 
jeopardy  her  secret  was  revealed  to  me." 

"Surely  you  do  not — you  can  not  mean,  mother—* 
that  she— that  I—" 

"Yes,  that  is  what  I  mean,"  returned  Mrs.  Garner, 
quietly.  "Jessie  Staples  loves  you,  my  boy;  but  do 
not  be  hard  on  the  poor  girl.  Remember,  love  goes 
where  it  is  sent.  She  never  intended  that  you  should 
know  it.  She  did  not  breathe  a  word  about  it  to  any 
one.  It  was  by  the  merest  chance  that  we  made  the 
discovery,  and  she  does  not  dream  that  we  know  it." 

Jack  sank  down  in  the  nearest  chair,  quite  over 
came  with  dismay. 

His  mother  came  and  bent  over  him,  smoothing 
the  fair  hair  back  from  his  damp  brow  with  a  trem 
bling  hand,  but  uttering  no  word. 

At  last  he  broke  the  deep  silence : 

"What  am  I  to  say — what  am  I  to  do,  mother,  if— » 
if — your  surmises  be  actually  true?" 

"They  are  not  surmises,  my  boy,"  returned  his 
mother;  "they  are  truths." 

•*Ycu  know  that  I  like  Jessie,"  he  went  ons  huskily  i 


PRETTY    MADCAP   DOROTHY  91 

'"but  as  for  any  other  sentiment — why,  it  would  be 

impossible.     My  life  will  always  be  tinged  with  the 

bitter  sorrow  of  that  other  love-dream  which  was  so 

cruelly  shattered.     I — I  wish  to  Heaven  you  had  not 

told  me  your  suspicions  about  Jessie,  mother." 

i      "Her  secret  fell  from  my  lips  in  an  unguarded  mo- 

;  mcnt,"  she  answered,  slowly,  "and  I  am  sorry  you 

|  know  all.     Yet  it  must  be  a  source  of  comfort  to  you 

to  know  that  although  Dorothy  Glenn  was  false  to 

you,  there  is  one  heart  which  beats  only  for  you/' 

Jack  started  to  his  feet,  a  dull  pallor  creeping  into 
his  face  as  he  drew  back  from  his  mother's  touch. 

"Dorothy  is  not  false  to  me!"  he  cried.  "If  an 
angel  from  heaven  should  tell  me  so  I  would  not  be 
lieve  it.  She  is  my  betrothed  bride.  She  wears  my 
betrothal-ring  upon  her  little  hand.  No  matter  where 
she  is,  she  is  true  to  me — true  as  God's  promise. 
Shame  has  caused  her  to  hide  herself  from  me,  be 
cause  she  was  so  foolish  as  to  go  with  another  on  an 
excursion  on  Labor  Day.  But  I  have  forgiven,  all 
that  long  ago.  Oh,  Heaven!  if  I  could  but  let  her 
know  it!" 

Mrs.  Garner  shook  her  head. 

"A  young  girl  who  can  leave  you  for  months  with 
out  a  word  does  not  care  for  you,  my  boy,"  she  an 
swered,  sadly.  "Surely  there  is  great  truth  in  the 
words  that  'Love  is  blind,'  if  you  can  not  be  made  to 
sec  this." 

Still  the  noble  lover  shook  his  head.  There  was 
wo  power  on  earth  strong  enough  to  shake  his  faith 
in  Dorothy's  love. 

Mrs.  Garner  had  said  all  that  she  could  say  for 
Jessie,  and  she  bowed  her  head,  and  great  tears  rolled 


92  PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY 

down  her  checks.  She  felt  great  pity  for  Jessie. 
iWhy  could  not  her  son  love  her  ?  She  had  heard  the 
story  of  jilted  lovers  turning  to  some  sympathizing- 
heart  for  solace,  and  in  time  learning  to  love  their 
consoler,  and  she  wondered  if  this  might  net  merci 
fully  happen  to  her  darling,  idolized  boy. 

She  watched  him  as  he  paced  excitedly  up  and  down 
the  room.  Suddenly  he  turned  to  her,  and  during  all 
the  long  after  years  of  sorrow  and  pain  she  never  for 
got  the  expression  of  his  face. 

"Mother!"  he  cried,  hoarsely,  "if  my  Dorothy  ever 
proved  false  to  me,  1  should  be  tempted  to — to — kill 
her — and — -then — kill — myself !" 


CHAPTER  XIII. 


The  contretemps  which  had  been  so  cleverly  averted 
—of  giving  the  pony,  Black  Beauty,  to  Miss  Vincent, 
and  Dorothy's  keen  resentment — should  have  proved  a 
lesson  to  Harry  Kend.il  and  warned  him  not  to  play 
with  edged  tools. 

He  was  a  little  careful  of  what  he  said  to  Iris  for 
the  next  few  days,  when  Dorothy  was  present ;  but 
gradually  this  restraint  began  to  wear  off,  and  he  grew 
to  be  almost  reckless  in  the  way  he  laughed  an-1 
carried  on  with  the  girl,  even  though  his  fiances  was  in 
the  room.  This  attention  was  certainly  not  discour 
aged  bv  Iris  Vincent. 

He  smiled  to  see  her  go  in  raptures  over  every- 
thing  in  and  about  Gray  Gables^  and  she,  with  her 
glorious  dark  eyes,  always  smiled  back  at  him.  Their 


PRETTY    MADCAP   DOROTHY  91 

'^  grew  longer  and  more  frequent;  they  were  fast 
becoming  excellent  friends. 

They  had  sent  for  Iris  Vincent  to  become  Dorothy's 
companion,  but  it  was  whispered  among  the  old  ser 
vants  of  the  household  that  she  was  proving  herself 
to  be  more  frequently  the  companion  of  Mr.  Kendal, 
and  they  talked  about  it  in  alarm,  wondering  how  it 
would  all  end.  They  felt  indignant,  too,  that  such  a 
bold  flirtation — for  it  had  certainly  come  to  that— 
should  be  carried  on  right  in  the  face  of  poor,  blind 
Dorothy. 

"Some  one  ought  to  give  her  a  hint  of  what  is 
going  on,"  cried  indignant  little  Katy.  the  maid.  But 
there  was  no  one  who  could  find  it  in  his  or  her  heart 
to  warn  her  of  what  was  transpiring.  The  blow 
would  be  more  than  she  could  bear,  for  she  loved 
Harry  Kendal  better  than  life  itself. 

They  wondered  if  little  Dorothy  guessed  that  he 
led  Iris  to  the  table,  while  she,  blind  as  she  was, 
groped  her  way  as  best  she  could  to  her  own  seat. 
They  hated  to  see  him  lavish  attentions  on  the  beauty, 
and  it  drove  them  almost  out  of  their  self-possession 
to  see  their  eyes  meet  in  that  provoking,  mutual  smile. 

Dorothy  was  beginning  to  feel  Harry's  neglect,  but 
no  thought  of  the  true  cause  of  it  ever  dawned  upon 
her. 

Ah!  could  she  have  seen  how  they  paced  the 
grounds  together  arm  in  arm,  and  how  near  they  sat 
together  on  the  step  of  the  front  porch,  and  in  what 
a  lover-like  manner  he  bent  his  dark  head  over  her 
little,  white  hands,  the  sight  would  have  killed  Doro 
thy. 

" I  wonder  if  they  think  we  are  fools!"  whispered 


94  PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY 

the  servants,  indignantly,  one  to  the  other;  and  their 
blood  boiled  with  rage  at  this  open  love-making. 

But  even  the  attention  of  handsome  Harry  Kendal 
seemed  to  pall  upon  the  beauty.  Gray  Gables  was 
dull ;  she  wanted  more  life,  more  gayety. 

"Why  not  give  a  grand  ball,"  she  suggested,  "and 
invite  the  whole  country-side?" 

She  longed  for  more  hearts  to  conquer.  Iris  was 
one  of  those  vain,  shallow  girls  who  must  and  will 
have  a  sentimental  flirtation  with  some  young  man 
always  on  hand.  She,  like  those  of  her  mischievous 
class,  really  meant  no  harm  while  doing  a  great  deal 
of  wrong.  Such  a  girl,  from  mere  vanity  and  pastime, 
will  try  to  outshine  a  companion  and  even  win  the 
heart  of  a  betrothed  lover  from  his  sweetheart,  car 
ing  little  for  the  broken  vows  and  the  ruined  lives 
strewn  along  her  path. 

Harry  Kendal  seized  eagerly  upon  the  idea,  because 
it  would  please  Iris.  Mrs.  Kemp  knew  no  other 
than  her  beautiful,  willful  niece's  pleasure,  No  one 
consulted  Dorotlw.  She  seemed  to  have  been  left  en 
tirely  out  of  the  calculation. 

For  the  first  time  since  Iris  Vincent  had  come  to 
iGray  Gables,  Dorothy  regretted  her  presence  there. 

What  would  be  the  ball  to  her  ?  Surely  they  ought 
to  know  that  she  could  take  no  part  in  it,  for  she  was 
blind.  5 

When  she  found  herself  alone  with  Iris  she  spoke 
of  this,  but  the  girl  turned  it  oft"  with  a  little  laugh. 

"Even  so,"  she  declared,  "Gray  Gables  ought  not  to 
be  shut  up  and  barricaded.  You  need  to  have  a 
little  life  to  keep  your  spirits  up.  You  are  just  dying 
for  some  kind  of  liveliness.  And  poor  Harry!  every: 


PRETTY   MADCAP  OORGTIIV 

©ne  is  feeling  sorry  for  him.    They  say  1 1  is  growing 
so  dull." 

"Do  they  say  that?"  cried  Dorothy,  the  color  deep 
ening  in  her  cheeks. 

"Yes — and  more/7  assented  Iris.  "And  for  Uia2 
reason  I  woulcl  advise  you  to  study  appearances,  so 
that  every  one  may  know  that  he  is  happy—at  least, 
let  them  think  he  is." 

The  words  struck  Dorothy  with  a  cold  chill,  as  her 
companion  had  intended  that  they  should. 

"Then  let   the  ball  be  given,  by  all  means,"  re 
turned  Dorothy,  with  a  little  quiver  in  her  voice, 
r     And  so  the  matter  was  arranged. 

For  the  next  week  Iris  and  Harry  were  busy  wi$s 
the  invitations.  They  sat  side  by  sice,  comparing 
them  as  they  made  them  out,  and  never  once  seemed 
to  note  Dorothy's  presence. 

If  any  one  on  the  list  did  not  quite  suit  their  fancy, 
they  were  quickly  rejected ;  but  Dorothy  noticed  that 
he  never  once  turned  to  her,  his  betrothed  bride,  and 
asked  her  opinion. 

There  was  one  young  girl  to  whom  Dorothy  hac$ 
been  quite  attached,  who  lived  very  near  Gray  Gables, 
and  who  had  run-  over  to  see  her  almost  every  clay,  up 
to  the  time  Iris  had  come.  Since  then  her  visits  had 
been  less  and  less  frequent;  within  the  last  fortnight 
they  had  ceased  altogether. 

Dorothy  was  very  anxious,  of  course,  that  this 
young  girl  should  be  invited;  but  Iris  put  in  a  de 
murrer  at  once. 

"Of  all  the  girls  I  ever  met,  I  dislike  her  the  most," 
'declared  Iris. 

She  was  very  careful  not  to  tell  the  real  reason  why. 


96  PRETTY  MADCAP  DOROTHY! 

This  same  young  girl  had  been  the  first  to  notice 
her  flirtation  with  Harry  Kendal.   They  had  had  quite  a 
stormy  little  scene  over  it,  for  the  girl  had  attempted 
to  rebuke  Iris,  in  her  modest  way,  and  she  had  re-  - 
torted  by  flashing  out  that  it  was  none  of  her  business,  [ 
anyway,  saying  that  she  would  flirt  with  Harry  Ken-  [ 
dal  just  as  much  as  she  pleased,  and  that  it  was  a 
shame  for  such  a  handsome  young  fellow  to  marry  a 
girl  ston-e  blind.  >jv 

They  had  parted  in  anger.  No  wonder,  we  repeat, 
that  Iris  objected  to  inviting  Dorothy's  friend  to  the 
grand  ball.  <  fc.  ^j 

"Oh!  of  course  we  must  invite  her,"  said  Doro 
thy,  when  her  friend's  name  was  brought  under  dis 
cussion.  "Mustn't  we,  Harry?" 

He  turned  away  and  walked  moodily  to  the  window: 
without  replying1.  If  Iris  did  not  like  her,  that  settled 
the  matter.  He  dared  not  put  in  one  word  in  the 
girl's  favor,  though  Dorothy  was  clamoring  for  his 
opinion.  , ; 

"You  must  settle  the  matter,  Harry,"  said  Dorothy. 

"Let  me  suggest  a  better  way,"  he  replied,  gal 
lantly,  as  he  took  his  seat  at  the  table  again,  ".You: 
two  girls  arrange  it  between  yourselves." 

"But  we  do  not  think  we  will  come  to  an  agree- r 
ment,"  pouted  Iris.  "You  will  have  to  choose  foe! 
Dorothy  and  me." 

He  gave  her  a  startled,  sweeping  look,  and  she  knew! 
by  that  that  he  would  not  dare  go  against  her  for; 
Dorothy. 

"I  must  decline,"  he  said  again,  Tor  he  felt  nervous 
with  those  sightless  eyes  turned  eagerly  in  his  direc 
tion. 


PRETTY    MADCAP   DOROTHY  97 

'"You  must  say  'Yes'  or  'No/  "  said  Dorothy,  never 
dreaming  that  his  answer  would  be  in  the  negative, 
for  on  the  week  that  she  had  first  come  to  Gray  Gables 
lie  had  said:  "I  must  introduce  you  at  once  to  Alice 
Lee,  who  lives  across  the  way.  She  is  a  lovely,  quiet 
girl/and  I  know  you  will  like  her."  And  Dorothy  had 
liked  gentle  Alice  Lee. 

She  thought  of  this  now  as  the  question  of  inviting 
her  to  the  ball  had  come  up,  and  never  for  a  moment 
had  she  doubted  the  result  of  his  decision. 

"You  must  answer  'Yes'  or  'No/  "  pouted  Iris,  im 
patiently.  "Come,  we  are  wasting  time." 

Iris  leaned  over  close  to  his  chair — so  near  that  the 
<iark  rings  of  her  hair  brushed  his  cheek,  thrilling  him 
to  the  soul. 

"You  must  choose,"  she  whispered;  and  he  knew 
that  it  was  a  challenge  as  to  which  he  should  please 
• — herself  or  Dorothy. 

Closer,  closer  still  she  leaned,  until  his  very  pulses 
grew  mad  with  the  nearness  of  her  presence,  and  with 
child-like  confidence  her  soft  little  hand  crept  into  his, 
and  nestled  there  securely. 

There  was  no  one  to  see,  though  Dorothy — God  help 
her  !^— sat  so  near  her.  The  touch  of  that  little  hand 
was  magical.  In  the  mad  impulse  of  the  moment  he 
raised  it  to  his  lips  and  kissed  it,  and  Iris  knew  that  she 
had  won  the  battle  even  before  he  spoke. 

"Alice  Lee  had  better  not  be  invited  to  the  ball,"  he 
said,  huskily.  "That  is  my  decision." 

Dorothy  sank  back  in  her  chair  as  though  a  sudden 
blow  had  been  struck  her.  She  never  once  dreamed 
that  her  betrothed  lover  would  decide  against  her. 

H  fairl.v:  took  her  breath  away,  and  a  sudden  new 


98  PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY 

sensation  shot  through  her  heart  that  had  never  found 
lodgment  there  before. 

She  drew  back  and  said  no  more,  a  deathly  pallor 
overspreading  her  face.  She  did  not  interfere  again, 
and  she  suffered  them  to  arrange  the  invitations  after} 
that  to  please  themselves. 

She  rose  quietly  at  length  and  made  her  way  to  the 
window,  great  tears  rising  to  her  sightless  eyes. 

They  did  not  CVCK  notice  her  absence,  but  chatted 
Stfid  laughed  quite  the  same. 

After  they  had  finished  Harry  proposed  that  they, 
should  take  the  invitations  to  be  mailed.  This  Iris 
gayly  assented  to,  and  they  left  the  room  without  once 
making  any  excuse  to  Dorothy  for  leaving  her  there 
alone. 

The  fact  was  that  they  were  not  even  aware  that  she 
had  seated  herself  in  the  bay  window  behind  the  great, 
heavy  portieres.  • 

For  the  first  time  Dorothy  wished  that  Iris  had  not 
come.  She  was  already  beginning  to  feel  the  weight 
of  the  iron  hand  that  was  soon  to  crush  her — jealousy. 

She  awaited  their  coming  with  the  greatest  impa 
tience,  but  it  was  long  hours  ere  they  -returned- 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


Harry  ITendnl  did  not  intend  being  untrue  to 
thy  when  lie  lei  himself  drift  into  that  platonic  friend 
ship  with  Iris,  the  beauty,  which  had  developed  into 
srch  a  dangerous  flirtation. 

Gradually  the  girl's   fascinations  seemed  to  over-* 


PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY  99 

power  him,  and  before  he  quite  realized  it,  Iris  had  be 
come  part  and  parcel  of  his  life. 

On  the  way  to  the  postoffice  a  little  event  had  hap 
pened  which  had  almost  changed  the  current  of  his 
Sife. 

They  had  taken  the  short  cut  from  Gray  Gables  to 
the  postoffice,  which  lay  over  the  hills,  and  were  walk 
ing  along  arm  in  arm  when  suddenly  Iris*  foot  slipped 
upon  a  stone,  and  she  stumbled  headlong  in  the  path 
with  a  little,  terrified  cry. 

In  an  instant  Harry  had  raised  her,  and  to  his  ut 
ter  consternation  she  clung  to  him  half  fainting, 

"Oh,  Mr.  Kendal — Harry— I — I  have  sprained  my 
ankle!  I  can  not  walk!"  she  said;  and  a  low  cry  ol 
pain  broke  from  her  lips. 

He  gathered  her  close  in  his  arms,  and  did  every* 
thing  in  his  power  to  soothe  her. 

"I  am  so  sorry — so  sorry  that  I  let  you  undertake 
this  trip  with  me.  Let  me  carry  you  back  to  the 
house." 

"My — my  ankle  is  not  sprained,"  she  faltered;  "it 
was  only  wrenched  a  little  as  it  turned  over  against 
that  stone.  We  will  sit  down  on  this  log  a  few  mo 
ments,  and  after  a  little  rest  I  will  be  all  right  again." 

To  this  Kendal  willingly  assented,  but  he  did  not 
remove  his  arm  from  the  slender  waist. 

"I  am  so  thankful  that  it  is  no  worse,  Iris,"  he 
breathed,  huskily. 

"Would   you  have   cared  so  very  tnucK  if  I  had 
sprained  my  ankle?"  she  faltered,  looking  up  into  his 
face  with  those  great,  dark,  mesmeric  eyes  that  no 
one  had  ever  yet  been  able  to  resist. 
.    Jfc&e  looked  away  from  her  quickly  and  did  not  reply. 


100  PRETTY    MADCAP   DORO7MY 

"Would  you?"  persisted  Iris,  in  her  low,  musical 
voice. 

Throwing  prudence  to  the  winds,  he  turned  to  her 
suddenly  and  clasped  her  still  closer  in  his  arms. 

"Does  not  your  own  heart  teach  you  that,  Iris?"  he 
returned,  hoarsely. 

"Oh!  if  I  could  only  believe  what  my  heart  would 
fain  tell  me,"  she  murmured,  "I — I  would  be  so 
happy!" 

"If  it  told  you  that  I — I  love  you,"  he  cried,  "then 
it  would — " 

The  rest  of  the  sentence  died  away  on  his  lips  for 
there,  directly  in  the  path  before  him,  stood  Mrs.  Kemp. 
She  might  have  been  blind  to  all  her  beautiful  niece's 
short-comings,  but  she  was  not  a  woman  to  so  mix 
light  and  wrong  as  to  permit  Iris  to  listen  to  a  word  of 
love  from  one  she  knew  belonged,  in  the  sight  of  God, 
to  another. 

Iris  was  equal  to  the  occasion. 

"Oh,  aunt!"  she  cried,  "I  am  so  glad  that  you  hap 
pened  along  just  now.  I — I  hurt  my  foot,  and  it  was 
so  painful  that  I  had  to  sit  down  and  rest;  and  Mr. 
Kendal  was  kind  enough  to  remain  here  with  me  a 
few  moments,  although — although — besides  the  in 
vitations  we  had  to  mail,  he  had  other  important  let 
ters  to  go  out  to-day." 

"Are  you  quite  sure  your  ankle  is  not  sprained, 
rny  dear?"  cried  Mrs.  Kemp,  in  alarm.  "The  wisest 
thing  to  do  will  be  to  come  home  with  me  at  once, 
and  we  will  send  for  a  doctor  to  examine  it." 

Iris  sprang  to  her  feet  with  a  wicked  little  laugh. 

"See,  it  is  better  now — almost  as  good  as  new," 


PRETTY    MADCAP    DOROTHY  101 

che  declared,  "thanks  to  Mr.  Kenclal  for  insisting 
upon  my  sitting  clown  here  to  rest." 

Had  it  been  any  one  else  but  Iris,  Kendal  would 
have  said  the  affair  had  been  a  clever  little  ruse  to 
give  him  the  opportunity  to  make  love  to  her. 

But  in  this  instance  it  never  occi-.necl  to  him 'but' 
that  Iris  was  telling  the  plair*  farts — that  her  ankle 
lia-d  been  wrenched,  and  with  r.  few  moiiicats"  vest 'it. 
•was  as  good  as  ever  again. 

Mrs.  Kemp  looked  greatly  relieved. 

"We  may  as  well  be  going,"  said  Iris,  hoping  that 
her  aunt  would  pass  on  and  leave  them  to  enjoy  the 
tcte-a-tcic  which  she  had  interrupted  at  such  an  in 
opportune  time. 

"I  will  go  with  you  both  as  far  as  the  postoffice," 
said  Mrs.  Kemp ;  and  the  good  soul  did  not  notice  the 
expression  of  annoyance  on  both  faces,  and,  very 
much  against  the  will  of  each,  she  accompanied  them 
there  and  back. 

Iris  was  bitterly  annoyed,  but  she  was  diplomatic 
enough  to  conceal  it ;  and  she  could  see,  too,  by; 
Harry's  face  that  he  was  disappointed  in  being  so 
ruthlessly  cheated  out  of  a  ieie-a-icte  with  her. 

They  loitersd  long  by  the  way,  trusting  that  Mrs. 
Kemp  would  become  impatient  with  their  delay,  and 
excuse  herself,  to  get  back  to  the  house  in  time  to 
superintend  dinner,  which  was  quite  a  feature  at 
Gray  Gables. 

"You  do  not  seem  to  be  in  any  hurry  to-day," 
laughed  Iris,  eyeing  her  aunt  sideways. 

"No;  for  it  is  not  often  that  I  indulge  myself  in 
going  out  for  a  stroll,"  answered  Mrs.  Kemp,  "and 
I  need  to  make  the  most  of  it.  If  I  am  not  back  at 


102  PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY 

the  usual  time  Dorothy  will  superintend  affairs — bless' 
her  dear  little  heart!  Why,  she's  a  regular  little 
jewel  about  the  house,  even  with  her  affliction."  \ 

This  praise  of  Dorothy  was  anything  but  pleasant 
to  lrjs,  especially  when  Kendal  was  present,  and  she 
turned  the 'conversation  at  once  into  another  channel. 
.  .,  M  -they ..'  beared,, ll^e  -house  they  met  one  of  the 
servaiits  hurrying  down  the  road. 

"You  are  the  very  person  I  am  looking  for,  ma'am," 
he  cried,  breathlessly.  "There  is  something  the 
matter  with  the  range,  and  they  are  all  in  a  stew  over 
it,  not  knowing  what  to  do  until  you  come."  i 

"Good  gracious!  if  I  step  cut  of  the  house  for  a 
moment  something  is  sure  to  happen,"  cried  the  good 
old  lady,  despairingly.  "Say  that  I  will  be  there 
directly,  John ;"  and  much  to  Iris'  relief,  she  hurriedly 
left  them. 

"Why  need  we  hasten?"  said  Kendal,  in  a  low 
voice.  "This  is  the  pleasantest  part  of  the  after 
noon." 

"I  am  in  no  hurry,"  assented  the  girl. 

"We  will  linger  here  in  this  delightful  spot,  and  . 
I  will  gather  you  some  autumn  leaves,"  cried  Harry,  i 
"Would  you  like  that?"  | 

"Yes,"  she  assented;  "if  you  will  help  me  to  weave 
them  into  garlands."  • 

"Nothing  would  give  me  more  pleasure,"  he  de 
clared;  "that  is,  if  you  are 'not  afraid  of  the  old 
tradition  becoming  true." 

She  looked  up  into  his  face,  blushing  as  crimson 
as  the  heart  of  a  deep-red  rose. 

"I  have  never  heard  it,"  she  said.  "Do  tell  r&e 
what  it  is." 


PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY  103 

"Bye  *nd  bye,  with  your  permission,  while  we  are 
weaving  the  garlands/"  Harry  answered,  with  a  rich, 
mellow  laugh.  "If  I  should  tell  you  beforehand,  you 
might  refuse  to  accept  my  services  altogether." 

"Is  it  so  bad  as  that?"  laughed  Iris. 

"You  had  better  use  the  word  good  instead  of  bad. 
.The  idea  would  be  more  pleasant." 

"Not  knowing  what  you  are  talking  about,  and 
not  possessing  the  key  to  solve  the  riddle  of  your  in 
comprehensible  words,  I  had  better  make  no  further 
reply,  lest  I  get  into  deep  water,"  she  pouted.  "But 
really  you  have  aroused  my  curiosity." 

"Well,  when  we  have  the  first  wreath  made,  then, 
and  not  until  then,  will  I  tell  you  what  they  say  of 
the  youth  and  maiden  who  weave  autumn  leaves  for 
each  other,  and  together.  Come  and  sit  on  this  mossy . 
ledge.  I  will  spread  my  overcoat  upon  it.  It  shall 
be  your  throne." 

"I  will  be  a  queen,  but  where  will  be  my  king?" 
laughed  Iris,  gayly. 

"Your  king  will  come  a- wooing  all  in  good  time," 
r>e  answered,  his  dark  eyes  seeking  hers  with  a  mean 
ing  glance,  which  the  beauty  and  coquette  understood 
but  too  well. 

In  less  time  than  it  takes  to  tell  it,  Kendal  had 
gathered  about  her  heaps  of  the  beautiful,  shining 
leaves. 

"Oh,  aren't  they  lovely!"  cried  Iris,  delightedly. 
"I  fairly  adore  autumn  leaves." 

"I  did  not  know  that  you  had  such  an  eye  for  the 
beautiful  in  nature,"  he  retorted,  rather  pleased. 

WI  a'dore  everything  that  is  handsome,"  she  said,  ia 


104  PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY 

a  low  voice,  returning  his  look  of  a  few  moments  ago 
with  interest. 

An  hour  flew  by  on  golden  wings,  and  the  wreaths 
grew  beneath  their  touch. 

"Now  you  look  indeed  a  queen!"  cried  Harry,  rais 
ing  one  gracefully,  and  laying  it  on  the  girl's  dark 
curls.  "You  remind  me  just  now  of  pictures  I  have 
seen  of  Undine  and  the  woodland  nymphs." 

"Ah!  but  Undine  had  no  heart,"  declared  Iris. 

"In  some  respects  you  are  like  Undine,"  he  re 
torted.  "  She  never  knew  she  had  a  heart  till  she  was 
conscious  of  its  loss.  Ah,  but  you  do  look  bewitch-' 
ing,  Miss  Vincent — Iris,  with  that  wreath  of  autumn 
foliage  on  your  head,  like  a  crown  of  dying  sunset. 
When  I  see  the  leaves  turn  in  the  autumn,  lines  that 
I  read  somewhere  always  recur  to  me : 

"  'As  bathed  in  blood  the  trailing  vines  appear, 
While  'round  them,  soft  and  low,  the  wild  wind 
grieves ; 

The  heart  of  autumn  must  have  broken  here, 
And  poured  her  treasure  out  upon  the  leaves.' 9l 

"What  pretty  poetry!"  sighed  Iris.  "Why,  it 
seems  to  me  that  you  have  some  beautiful  sentiment, 
set  to  rhyme,  to  express  almost  every  thought !  You 
must  love  poetry.  Does — does  Dorothy  care  for  it?" 

"No,"  he  returned,  in  a  low  voice,  and  looked  away 
from  her  with  a  moody  brow. 

"That  is  strange,"  mused  Iris.  "I  should  think 
that  you  would  inspire  her  with  a  love  for  it." 

"If  it  is  not  in  one's  soul,  how  can  you  expect  tG 
find  it  there,"  he  retorted,  rather  bitterly.  "No, 
Dorothy  has  no  love  for  poetry,  flowers,  or  birds* 


PRETTY    MADCAP   DOROTHY  1Q3 

nor,  in  fact,  anything  that  other  young  girls  care  for. 
J  imagine  she  would  quite  as  soon  prefer  a  garden 
filled  with  hollyhocks  and  morning-glories  to  the 
daintiest  flowers  that  ever  bloomed.  Alas,  there  are 
few  tastes  in  common  between  us !" 


CHAPTEB  XV. 


"What  a  pity !"  sighed  Iris,  and  lier  hand  crept  synt 
pathifingfy  into  his.  The  gloomy  look  deepened  e£ 
his  face. 

"Do  you  believe  that  there  is  a  true  mate  for  each 
heart,  Iris  ?"  he  asked,  suddenly. 

"I  might  better  ask  you  that  question,"  she  an 
swered,  evasively.  "You  are  engaged — you  seem  to 
have  found  a  heart  that  is  the  mate  for  your  own." 

"Do  you  think  there  is  such  a  thing  as  making  53 
mistake,  even  in  so  grave  a  matter?"  he  asked,  hus* 
kily,  "and  that  those  who  discover  their  error  should 
keep  on  straying  further  and  further  in  the  wrong* 
path?  Do  you  not  believe  that  there  should  be  the 
most  ardent  love  between  those  who  wed — and  that 
where  there  is  a  lack  of  it  the  two  should  separate, 
and  each  go  his  or  her  own  way?" 

Iris  drooped  her  head ;  but  ere  she  could  reply-^ 
utter  the  words  that  sprang  to  her  lips — an  excla 
mation  of  the  deepest  annoyance,  mingled  with  a 
fierce  imprecation,  was  ground  out  from  between  Ken- 
dal's  teeth. 

There,  directly  in  the  path  before  them,  stood  Alice 
Lee. 


106  PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY 

Had  she  been  standing  there  long?  If  so,  she  must 
have  heard  every  word  that  had  been  uttered. 

Alice  Lee  had  heard,  and  every  word  had  cut  to  her 
heart  like  the  sharp  point  of  a  sword. 

She  had  feared  this,  but  had  tried  to  reason  the  mat* 
ter  out  in  her  own  mind;  but  although  circumstances 
did  look  tellingly  against  the  beauty  who  had  come  to 
Gray  Gables  to  be  Dorothy  Glenn's  companion,  yet 
she  had  tried  to  make  herself  believe  that  her  sus 
picions  were  groundless. 

:     "Have  you  been  eavesdropping?"  cried  Iris,  spring^ 
ing  to  her  feet,  her  Wack  eves  flashing  luridly. 

A  thousand  thoughts  flashed  through  Alice  Lee's 
mind  in  an  instant. 

No ;  she  was  too  proud  to  let  them  realize  that  she 
had  overheard  the  perfidy  of  Dorothy's  treacherous 
lover.  < 

No;  better  plead  ignorance,  until  she  had  time  to 
think  over  the  matter,  for  Dorothy's  sake,  if  not  for 
her  own. 

"I  have  but  just  turned  the  bend  in  the  road/-  she 
replied,  with  sweet  girlish  dignity.  "Your  question, 
Miss  Vincent,  surprises  me,"  she  said.  "I  have  no 
need  to  answer  it,  I  think." 

"But  you  always  do  happen  around  just  when  peo 
ple  least  expect  you,  Alice  Lee." 

"I  hope  my  old  friends  will  always  find  my  pres 
ence  welcome,"  returned  Alice,  quietly. 

"To  be  sute,  you  are  welcome,"  interposed  Ken- 
clal.  "Miss  Vincent  and  I  were  only  conversing  upon 
the  salient  points  of  a  new  novel  we  finished  reading 
yesterday.  If  you  would  care  to  hear  it,  I  shall  b« 


PRETTY    MADCAP    DOROTHY  107 

pleased  to  go  over  the  plot  with  you,  and  hear  }'our 
opinion  regarding-  it." 

"I  fear  it  would  not  benefit  you,  for  I  am  not  much 
of  a  novel  reader,  and  understand  very  little  of  plots 
and  plotting." 

Was  this  a  quiet  drive  at  them?  both  thought  as 
they  looked  up  instantly. 

But  the  soft,  gray  eyes  of  Alice  Lee  looked  inno 
cently  enough  from  one  to  the  other. 

She  seemed  in  no  hurry  to  pass  on,  and  Iris  felt 
that  for  the  second  time  that  afternoon  her  tcte-a-icte 
with  handsome  Harry  Kendal  was  to  be  broken  up, 
and  from  this  moment  henceforth  she  owed  Alice  Lee 
more  of  a  grudge  than  ever,  and  she  felt  sure  that 
the  girl  knew  it. 

Upon  one  point  Alice  was  determined — that  no 
matter  how  coldly  Iris  Vincent  might  treat  her,  she 
should  not  leave  Dorothy's  lover  alone  with  her  and 
in  her  power — she  would  stand  by  her  poor  little  blind 
friend,  who  needed  her  aid  in  this  terrible  hour  more 
than  she  would  ever  know,  God  help  her ! 

Although  long  silences  fell  between  the  trio,  still 
Alice  lingered,  chatting  so  innocently  that  they  could 
not  find  it  in  their  hearts  to  be  very  angry  with  her; 
and  they  could  not  bring  themselves  to  believe  that 
she  had  a  purpose  in  her  guileless  actions. 

There  was  no  alternative  but  to  walk  homeward 
•with  her;  but  they  did  not  ask  her  in  when  they 
reached  the, gates  of  Gray  Gables,  and  so  Alice  had  no 
excuse  to  enter  to  see  Dorothy  and  warn  her,  but  was 
obliged  to  pass  on. 

Mrs.  Kemp  and  two  or  three  of  the  servants  were 
on  the  porch,  so  that  there  was  no  opportunity  to  ex- 


108  PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY 

change  but  a  few  whispered  words.  They  were  just 
about  to  part  when  Iris  happened  to  think  that  Ken- 
dal  had  not  told  her  what  was  said  of  those  who 
gather  and  weave  autumn  leaves  together,  as  he  had 
promised. 

She  paused  suddenly  and  looked  up  archly  into  his 
face. 

"What  about  the  autumn-leaf  mystery?"  she  ex 
claimed.  "You  know  you  were  to  tell  me  all  about 
it?" 

"Do  you  promise  not  to  be  angry  with  me,  Iris?" 
he  answered,  in  his  deep,  musical  voice.  "You  know 
I  can  not  help  old  adages — I  do  not  make  them." 

"Why  should  I  be  angry?"  she  exclaimed,  having' 
a  rather  faint  idea  of  what  was  coming. 

"Well,  then,"  said  Kendal,  fixing  his  dark  eyes  full 
upon  her,  "it  is  said  that  the  }outh  and  maiden  who 
twine  the  ruby  and  golden  leaves  together  are  in 
tended  for  each  other.  There,  are  you  so  very 
angry  ?" 

Iris  dropped  his  arm  with  a  little  cry,  and  fled  pre 
cipitately  into  the  house. 

He  walked  on  slowly  through  the  great  hall  and 
into  the  library.    He  knew  Dorothy  would  be  waiting  ' 
for  him,  and  he  did  not  feel  equal  to  the  ordeal  of 
meeting  her  just  then. 

He  wanted  a  moment  to  think.    He  felt  that  he  was  ' 
standing  on  the  brink  of  a  fearful  abyss,  and  that  one 
snore  step  must  prove  fatal  to  him. 

Which  way  should  he  turn?  He  was  standing  fac© 
to  face  with  the  terrible  truth  now,  that  he  loved  Iris 
Vincent  madly — loved  her  better  than  his  own  life— • 
lae,  the  betrothed  of  another. 


PRETTY    MADCAP    DOROTHY  109 

But  with  that  knowledge  came  another.  Iris  could 
be  nothing  to  him,  for  they  were  both  poor. 

He  was  sensible  enough  to  sit  down  and  look  the 
future  in  the  face.  He  realized  that  if  he  should 
marry  Iris  on  the  spur  of  the  moment,  that  would  be 
only  the  beginning  of  the  end. 

It  would  be  all  gay  and  bright  with  them  for  a  few 
brief  weeks,  or  perhaps  for  a  few  months ;  then  their 
sky  would  change,  for  Iris  was  not  a  girl  to  endure 
poverty  for  love's  sake.  She  wanted  the  luxuries  of 
life — these  he  could  not  give  her ;  and  there  would  be 
reproaches  from  the  lips  that  now  had  only  smiles  for 
4?im. 

She  would  want  diamonds  and  silks,  and  all  the 
other  feminine  extravagances  so  dear  to  the  hearts 
of  other  women,  and  he  was  only  a  struggling  doctor, 
who  would  have  to  fight  a  hand-to-hand  battle  with 
grim  poverty.  And  sitting  there  in  the  arm-chair,  be 
fore  the  glowing  grate,  where  he  had  flung  himself, 
he  pictured  a  life  of  poverty  that  would  spread  out  be 
fore  him  if  he  defied  the  world  for  love's  sake. 

A  dingy  office;  a  worn  coat,  and  trousers  shiny  at 
the  knees ;  a  necktie  with  a  ragged  edge ;  an  unkempt 
beard,  a  last  season's  hat,  and  hunger  gnawing  at  his 
vitals. 

The  picture  filled  him  with  the  most  abject  horror. 

He  was  stylish  and  fastidious  to  a  fault.  Fie  loved 
Iris;  but  did  he  not  equally  love  his  own  ease?  He 
could  barely  tolerate  Dorothy,  the  poor,  tender,  plain 
little  creature  who  lavished  a  world  of  love  upon  him ; 
but  he  swallowed  the  bitter  draught  of  having  to  en-* 
•dure  her  by  always  remembering  that  she  was  heiress* 


J10  PRETTY    MADCAP    DOROTHY 

in  all  probability,  to  a  cool  million  of  money,  and 
money  had  been  his  idol  all  his  life  long.  He  could 
not  exist  without  it. 

He  was  not  one  of  the  kind  who  could  face  the 
world  manfully  and  snatch  from  it  its  treasures  by  the 
sweat  of  his  brow.  No,  he  could  not  give  tip  this 
dream  of  wealth  that  was  almost  as  much  as  life  to 
him. 

In  the  very  midst  of  his  reverie  a  light  step  crossed 
the  library,  but  he  did  not  hear  it.  It  was  Dorothy. 

She  stole  up  quietly  and  knelt  on  the  hassock  beside 
his  chair. 

"What  were  you  thinking  of,  Harry?"  she  said. 

He  was  equal  to  the  occasion. 

"Of  what  or  whom  should  I  be  thinking  but  your 
self,  Dorothy?"  he  replied. 

"It  could  not  have  been  a  very  pleasant  thought,  I 
fear,  for  you  sighed  deeply,"  she  murmured. 

"That  is  all  your  fancy,  Dorothy,"  he  declared — • 
"that  my  thoughts  were  not  pleasant.  True,  I  may; 
have  sighed,  but  did  you  never  hear  of  such  a  thing 
as  a  sigh  of  contentment?" 

She  laughed  merrily. 

"I  have  heard  of  it,  but  thought  the  words  rather 
misplaced." 

"I  assure  you  they  are  quite  true  and  practicable." 

"Where  is  Iris?"  she  asked,  suddenly. 

"I  am  sure  I  do  not  know,"  he  answered,  trying 
to  speak  carelessly. 

"I  want  to  have  a  real  l6ng  talk  with  you,  Harry/' 
she  said.  "I  have  heard  that  there  should  be  nothing 
but  the  utmost  confidence  between  engaged  lovers* 
Shall  it  not  be  so  with  us?" 


PRETTY  MADCAP   DOROTHY  1111 

"Of  course,"  he  answered,  starting  rather  guiltily 
lor  he  had  a  faint  intuition  of  what  was  coming. 

"Harry,"  she  whispered,  "I  want  you  to  tell  me — < 
is  it  true — what  they  are  all  saying — that  you  have 
ceased  to  love  me  ?" 

"All  saying!"  he  echoed.  "Who  is  saying  it? 
\Vhat  old  busybodies  are  sticking  their  noses  in  my; 
affairs  now  ?"  he  cried,  with  something  on  his  lips  that 
sounded  very  like  an  imprecation. 

"But  it  isn't  true,  is  it,  Harry?"  she  breathed.  "I 
should  want  to  die  if  I  thought  it  was." 

"Look  here,  Dorothy,"  he  cried,  "if  you  want  to 
believe  all  these  mischief-makers  tell  you,  you  will 
have  enough  tc  do  all  through  your  life.  You  will 
have  to  either  believe  me  or  believe  them.  Now, 
Which  shall  it  be  ?" 

"But  answer  my  question,  'Yes'  or  'No?'"  pleaded 
[Dorothy.  "I — I  am  waiting-  for  your  answer,  Harry." 

There  was  a  slight  rustle  in  the  doorway,  and 
glancing  up  with  a  start,  Kendal  saw  Iris  Vincent 
standing  there,  looking  on  the  tender  scene  with  a 
scornful  smile,  and  the  words  he  would  have  answered 
<iied  away  unsaid  on  his  lips. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

With  a  scornful  toss  of  her  head,  Iris  wheeled 
about.  She  would  not  enter  the  room,  though  she 
was  just  dying  to  know  what  they  were  saying — as 
Kendal  sat  in  the  arrn-chair  before  the  glowing  coaU, 
while  Dorothy  knelt  on  the  hassock  at  his  feet. 


112  PRETTY    MADCAP    DOROTHY 

But  that  one  glance  of  Iris  had  proved  fatal  to  Ken- 
dal's  peace  of  mind,  and  the  hope  swept  over  his  soul 
that  she  would  not  think  that  he  was  talking  love  to 
Dorothy. 

His  silence  perplexed  the  girl  kneeling  at  his  feet. 

"I  try  to  picture  what  our  future  life  will  be  to 
gether,  Harry,"  she  murmured. 

"Don't  let  us  talk  about  it!"  he  exclaimed,  im 
patiently. 

"But  I  like  to,"  she  insisted.  "It  is  my  constant 
thought  by  night  and  by  day.  And,  oh!  I  shall  try; 
to  make  }'OU  so  happy.  I  shall  go  out  dining  with  you 
every  day,  if  you  like,  and  I  will  always  wear  a  little 
.veil  over  my  face,  that  no  one  need  know  as  they 
pass  us  by  that  your  bride  is  blind.  And  I  shall  try 
to  be  so  wise,  and  learn  to  talk  with  you  upon  the 
subjects  you  love  best.  You  will  not  be  ashamed  of 
me,  will  you,  Harry?" 
j,  This  with  wistful  eagerness  pitiful  to  behold. 

"I  do  wish,  Dorothy,  that  you  would  cease  your 
harping  on  the  same  old  subject!"  he  cried,  wor 
riedly.  "You  annoy  me  so!" 

"Annoy  you?"  whispered  Dorothy,  half  under  her 
breath.  "Why,  I  did  not  know  that  we  could  say 
anything  to  those  we  love  which  could  make  them 
vexed  at  us,  because  I  thought  we  were : 

tt  'Two  souls  with  but  a  single  thought, 
Two  hearts  that  beat  as  one/ 

It  seems,  Harry,  as  though  we  had  so  little  time  to 
talk  with  each  other  now.    And,  oh !  how  I  miss  those 
little  chats  we  used  to  have  together ;  don't  you  ?" 
"You  talk  like  a  child,  Dorothy,,"  he  Tied.    "Do 


PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY  113 

you  expect  me  to  be  dancing  attendance  upon  you  all 
the  time?" 

.    "No;  I  have  ceased  to  expect  that,"  murmured  the 
girl,  choking  back  a  sob — "especially  lately." 

"I  hope,"  he  cried,  "that  you  are  not  getting  to  be 
one  of  those  exacting  creatures  who  are  jealous  if  a 
man  is  not  at  their  side  every  moment  ?  I  could  never 
endure  that." 

With  a  sudden  impulse,  Dorothy  threw  her  arms 
about  his  neck  and  nestled  her  snow-white  cheek 
against  his. 

"Let  me  tell  you  the  truth,  Harry,"  she  whis 
pered.  "I  am  trying  not  to  be  jealous,  as  hard  as 
ever  I  can ;  but,  oh !  there  seems  such  a  coldness 
between  us  lately.  My  intuition — my  heart  tells  me 
so.  .Everything  has  changed  since  Iris  carne,"  she 
repeated.  "I  am  glad  you  have  some  one  to  go  with 
you  on  your  rambles,  as  I  used  to  do — some  one  to 
walk  and  read  with  you,  as  I  once  did.  But  when  I 
think  of  it,  and  picture  ^oti  two  together,  and  know 
that  she  takes  the  same  place  by  your  side  that  I  was 
\vont  to  take,  can  you  wonder  that  my  heart  throbs 
•with  a  slow,  dull  pain?" 

"Women  magnify  everything!"  cried  Kendal, 
harshly.  "I  suppose  you  will  begrudge  me  a  moment's 
comfort  where  another  young  girl  is  concerned,  be 
cause  you  can  not  participate  in  it." 

"I  wonder  that  you  can  find  comfort,  as  you  phrase 
it,  with  another,"  said  Dorothy,  with  a  little  tremor  in 
her  voice.  "I  have  never  heard  that  any  other  society 
was  satisfying  to  an  engaged  lover  t^n  that  of  the 
whom  he  avers  to  love." 


114  PRETTY  MADCAP  DOROTHY 

Kendal  laughed  a  little  low,  tantalizing  laugh1 
.which  grated  keenly  on  the  girl's  ears. 

"Men  differ  in  their  tastes  and  inclinations,"  he 
retorted  laconically.  "  I  do  not  choose  to  be  tied  down 
and  governed  by  one  woman's  whims,  nor  to  be  dic 
tated  to." 

"You  should  not  speak  of  it  in  that  way,  Harry," 
whispered  the  girl  in  a  choking  voice;  "rather,  you 
should  say  to  yourself  that  you  would  not  do  the 
slightest  thing  that  might  cause  me  one  pang  of  annoy 
ance.  He  who  truly  loves  finds  no  interest,  no  attrac 
tion  but  in  the  one  face,  the  one  presence.  I  have 
known  many  betrothed  young  men,  and  I  never  yet 
knew  one  who  paid  the  girl  he  loved  so  little  courtesy: 
as  to  flirt,  ever  so  slightly,  with  another." 

She  could  not  see  the  flush  that  burned  his  face, 
•for  he  knew  that  every  word  she  uttered  was  but 
too  true.  He  felt  guilty  in  her  sweet,  innocent  pres 
ence.  Had  he  but  loved  her,  he  would  have  found 
no  pleasure  whatever  in  Iris  Vincent's  dangerous 
coquetries. 

He  would  not  have  encouraged  her  by  smile,  word, 
or  deed. 

A  wave  of  pity  swept  over  his  heart  for  Dorothy 
as  he  looked  down  into  the  pure,  uplifted  face.  But 
it  was  only  short-lived,  for  at  that  instant  he  heard 
Iris'  silvery  laughter  from  an  adjoining  room. 

"I  propose  that  we  finish  this  interesting  subject 
at  some  future  time,"  he  said,  carelessly.  "I  have 
some  important  letters  to  write,  and  if  you  will  ex 
cuse  me  for  a  little  while,  I  should  be  very  glad." 

Sorrowfully  Dorothy  rose  from  the  hassock  and 
glowly  quitted  the  room. 


PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY  115 

With  lagging  steps  she  made  her  way  to  tier  own 
room,  her  heart  as  heavy  as  lead  in  her  bosom. 

She  had  entered  the  library  with  buoyant  steps~and 
a  light  heart ;  aye,  even  a  little  snatch  of  song  on  her 
lips,  for  she  had  made  up  her  mind  that  she  would 
wait  there  until  Harry  came  and  have  a  good  talk 
jwith  him. 

She  had  been  so  sure  that  he  would  take  her  in 
his  arms  and  soothe  away  her  fears,  laughing  at  them 
in  his  own  way  as  being  the  most  ridiculous  fancies 
iwhich  her  sensitive  little  brain  had  conjured  up. 

And  ah !  how  different  had  been  the  reality. 

He  had  rudely  repulsed  her — and  she  his  promised 
rwife !  Katy  noticed  how  gloomy  she  was,  and  ran 
{quickly  to  her  young  mistress'  side. 

"Oh,  Miss  Dorothy,"  she  cried,  "you  do  look  so 
pale.  Let  me  place  you  in  a  chair  and  bring  you 
some  wine." 

Dorothy  shook  her  head. 

"I  am  not  ill,  Katy,"  she  said,  wearily,  "only  I — I 
Have  a  slight  headache.  If  you  will  leave  me  by  my 
self  I  will  take  a  short  rest  if  I  can,  then  I  shall  be 
all  right." 

But  Katy  insisted  upon  bringing  her  a  cordial,  if 
not  the  wine,  and  surely  she  was  forgiven  for  putting 
a  few  drops  of  a  sleeping  potion  in  the  glass  ere  she 
handed  it  to  her  mistress.  She  well  knew  that  she 
had  not  slept  soundly  for  some  time  past. 

Surely  she  was  breaking  down  slowly  from  some 
terrible  mental  strain.  She  realized  but  too  well  what 
that  mental  strain  was. 

Dorothy  allowed  her  to  lead  her  passively  to  the 
sofa,  and  to  deposit  her  among  the  cushions. 


116  PRETTY    MADCAP    DOROTHY 

"You  will  ring  when  you  want  me,  Miss  Doro-' 
thy,"  she  said,  placing  a  table  with  a  bell  on  it  close 
by  her  side. 

"Yes,"  said  Dorothy,  wearily.  "Now  go  and  leave 
me,  that's  a  good  girl;"  and  Katy  passed  into  the  next 
apartment,  drawing  the  curtains  softly  behind  her. 
There  she  sat  down  and  waited  until  her  mistress 
should  fall  asleep.  It  almost  made  the  girl's  heart 
bleed  to  hear  the  great  sighs  that  broke  from  Doro 
thy's  lips. 

"Poor  soul!  poor  soul!"  she  cried;  "how  unhappy 
she  is!" 

But  soon  the  potion  began  to  take  effect,  and  the 
sighs  soon  melted  into  deep,  irregular  breathing,  and 
then  Katy  knew  that  she  slept. 

An  hour  passed,  and  yet  another,  still  she  did  not 
waken,  though  there  were  loud  sounds  of  mirth  and 
revelry  in  the  drawing-room  beneath.  The  maid  rec 
ognized  Iris*  voice  and  that  of  Harry  Kendal. 

"The  grand  rascal!"  muttered  the  girl;  "how  I  feel 
like  choking  that  man!  He  doesn't  care  any  more 
for  that  poor  blind  girl  in  there,  that  he's  engaged 
to,  than  the  dust  which  sticks  to  his  patent  leather 
shoes.  I  believe  the  truth  is  slowly  beginning  to  dawn 
upon  her." 

At  that  moment  she  heard  Dorothy's  voice  calling 
her,  and  she  went  quickly  to  her  side. 

"Oh,  how  long  have  I  slept,  Katy?"  she  cried. 

"An  hour  or  such  a  matter,"  responded  the  girl. 
"They  have  all  been  to  dinner,  but  I  thought  sleep 
would  be  better  for  you." 

"How  long  since?"  cried  Dorothy,  springing  from 
the  sofa.  "And  did  they  not  send  urj  £or  ine?"  asking 


PRETTY    MADCAP    DOROTHY 


117 


both  questions  in  a  breath,  and  waiting  with  feverish 
impatience  for  an  answer. 

"No,"  said  the  girl,  bluntly. 

/'Did  they  forget  me?"  whispered  Dorothy,  in  a 
voice  so  hollow  that  the  tone  frightened  the  little 
maid. 

"If  looks  very  much  like  it,  Miss  Dorothy,"  she 
answered;  "but  I  did  not  forget  you;  I  brought  you 
up  a  whole  trayful  of  things." 

"I  can  not  eat,"  sighed  Dorothy,  ar  !  she  mur 
mured,  under  her  breath:  "Yes,  they  ,:~  -rgot  me— • 
forgot  me!  Come  here,  my  good  girl,"  she  went  on, 
very  nervously;  "there  is  something  I  w;  t  you  to  do 
for  me." 

Katy  came  close  to  her  side.  Dorothy  /cached  out 
her  hand  and  caught  the  girl's  arm  in  her  trembling 
grasp. 

"I  want  you  to  slip  down  quietly,  Katv  "  she  said — - 
"mind,  very  quietly — and  see  what  th.-y  are  doing 
'down  in  the  drawing-room.  I  hear  Mr.  K-  dal's  voice 
and  Miss  Vincent's.  Take  notice  if  1V;  Kemp  is 
with  them,  or  if  they  are  alone." 

"Are  you  going  down  to-night,  Ml  .-  Dorothy?" 
asked  Katy. 

''If  it  isn't  too  late,"  she  answered  I'romu- 

lous  voice,  adding:  "I  want  you  to  la;  ic  pret 

tiest  dress  I  have,  and  some  nice  ribbo  hair, 

before  you  go.  I  can  be  dressing  while  g  >ne; 

it  will  save  that  much  time." 

Katy  did  as  she  was  bid,  and  a  few  r»  isents  later 
was  creeping  noiselessly  down  the  bp-  stairway, 
which  led  to  the  drawing-room.  Drawir*-  the  heavy 


silken  portieres  aside,  she  peered  cautious! 


v   in. 


As 


118  PRETTY    MADCAP   DOROTHY 

she  expected,  Mr.  Kendal  and  Miss  Vincent  were  en-* 
joying  each  other's  society,  quite  alone.  But  that  wai 
not  the  worst  of  it. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

Katy  gazed  long  and  earnestly  at  the  picture  be- 
jfore  her. 

Miss  Vincent  sat  at  the  piano,  magnificently 
cressed  in  a  pale  blue  chiffon  evening  dress,  with 
great  clusters  of  pink  roses  at  her  belt,  at  her  throat, 
and  in  the  meshes  of  her  jetty  curls. 

Beside  her,  turning  over  the  music,  and  bending  likj 
a  lover  over  her,  was  Harry  Kendal. 

And  as  the  girl  watched  she  saw  him  suddenly  lift 
to  his  lips  the  little  white  hand  that  was  straying  over 
the  keys. 

"Do  let  me  persuade  you  to  sing  for  me,  Ins,"  he 
was  saying.  "In  what  have  I  so  far  offended  yen  that 
you  are  so  ungracious  to  me  this  evening,  Iris?"  he 
murmured,,  reproachfully.  _ 

"I  do  not  know  that  I  am  any  different  to-night  i 
from  what  I  have  always  been,"  pouted  the  beauty.  ' 
"I  simply  do  not  feel  like  singing,  that  is  all." 

"You  have  changed  your  mood  very  suddenly,  Ins/' 
he  declared.  "You  asked  me  to  come  into  the  drawing^ 
room  to  hear  you  sing,  and  now  you  tell  me  that  you 
l^ave  changed  your  mind.  What  am  I  to  think?" 

"Whatever  you  please,"  she  answered,  curtly. 

"Tell  me  one  thing,  Iris,"  he  murmured,  a  little 
Hoarsely,  bending  nearer  over  the  pretty,  willful 


PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY  119 

> 

coquette;  "were  the  words  of  the  song  you  Intended 
to  sing  suggestive  of  a  sudden  coldness  between  two 
yery  near  and  very  dear  friends?" 
t     "I  will  not  listen  to  you!"  cried  Iris,  petulantly. 

"I  repeat,  what  have  I  done  to  offend  you,  my  dear 
girl  ?"  he  cried. 

"Say  to  yourself  that  it  was  surely  not  my  intention, 
nor  my  will.  You  asked  me  to  come  to  the  library  to 
listen  to  some  poems.  When  I  stepped  into  the  room 
I  saw  at  a  glance  that  you  had  quite  forgotten  the 
appointment,  Harry,  by  the  picture  that  met  my, 
glance." 

He  knew  in  an  instant  to  what  she  referred — He 
sitting  in  the  arm-chair  with  Dorothy  by  his  side,  her 
arms  twined  about  him. 

"I  did  not  ask  her  in  there,  Iris,"  he  said,  huskily. 
'"I  found  her  in  there  when  I  entered  the  apartment. 
She  was  evidently  waiting  for  me.  She  met  me  with! 
tears  and  reproaches,  and  if  there  is  anything  that  is 
detestable  to  a  man  it  is  that  line  of  conduct,  believe 
me." 

Iris  shrugged  her  shoulders,  but  made  no  reply. 

"Why  did  you  not  come  in  when  you  came  to  the 
door?"  he  asked,  bending  dangerously  near  the  fatally 
beautiful  face  so  near  his  own. 

"Because  I  thought  that  two  was  company — three 
would  be  a  crowd,"  she  responded,  proudly  tossing* 
back  her  jetty  curls. 

"You  would  always  be  welcome  to  me,  Iris,"  He 
said,  huskily.  "You  know  that  but  too  well  by  this 
time,  don't  you?"  and  his  hand  closed  tightly  over 
the  one  lying  lightly  in  her  lap,  and  his  head  drooped 
nearer  still. 


120  PRETTY    MADCAP   DOROTHY 

"Great  Scott!  they  are  almost  kissing  each  other, 
the  two  vipers !"  panted  Katy  to  herself,  her  blood 
fairly  boiling  in  her  veins  at  the  sight,  of  this  billing 
and  cooing.  "Oh,  if  I  only  dared  put  poor  Miss  Doro 
thy  on  her  guard !" 

She  could  not  refrain  from  bursting  in  upon  them 
at  this  critical  instant,  and  in  less  time  than  it  takes 
to  tell  it  she  had  bounded  into  the  room. 

"A-hem,  a-hem!"  she  coughed,  pantingly;  "but  if 
you  please,  miss,"  turning  and  addressing  herself  to 
Iris,  "the  housekeeper  is  looking  for  you,  and  wants 
you  to  come  to  her." 

"Certainly,"  said  Iris,  springing  up  from  the  piano 
stool  with  a  face  flushed  as  red  as  a  peony  and  a  very 
confused  look  in  her  eyes;  "I  will  go  at  once;"  and 
with  an  assumed  smile  on  her  face  she  glided  from 
the  room,  muttering  below  her  breath : 

"I'd  like  to  choke  that  little  imp  of  a  maid!  When 
ever  I  am  talking  to  Harry  Kendal,  if  I  turn  around 
I  find  her  at  my  elbow." 

Katy  was  about  to  follow  Miss  Vincent  from  the 
room,  when  Harry  called  to  her. 

"Remain  a  moment,"  he  said.    "I  wish  to  see  you." 

With  a  little  courtesy  Katy  obeyed. 

For  a  moment  or  two  he  stood  quite  still  in  the 
center  of  the  r6om,  toying  nervously  with  the  medal 
lion  on  his  watch  chain,  and  a  very  perceptible  frown 
on  his  dark,  handsome  face. 

"Tell  me,  how  long  have  you  been  standing  there, 
girl?" 

She  hung  her  head,  but  did  not  answer;  but  thai! 
silence  told  him  quite  as  much  as  words. 


PRETTY    MADCAP    DOROTHY  121 

"The  wisest  girls  are  those  who  never  see  or  hear 
anything/'  he  declared,  eyeing  her  sharply. 

Again  Katy  courtesied,  making  no  reply.  She  knew 
quite  well  what  ho.  meant. 

"I  may  as  well  come  to  the  point  and  say  that  you 
are  not  to  mention  to  any  one  anything  that  has  taken 
place  in  this  house — especially  in  this  room  to-night. 
Now  here  is  something  that  may  help  you  to  remem 
ber  the  old  adage  that  'silence  is  golden.'  r  And  as 
he  spoke  he  thrust  a  bill  into  the  girl's  hand,  motion 
ing  her  from  the  drawing-room,  and  turning  abruptly 
on  his  heel,  he  sauntered  slowly  across  the  room  and 
flung  himself  down  in  an  easy  chair. 

Katy  hurried  quickly  upstairs. 

"The  grand  rascal!"  she  muttered;  "to  pay  me  to 
help  deceive  Miss  Dorothy  !  How  my  fingers  tingled 
to  box  his  ears!  I  longed  to  stamp  my  foot  and  cry 
out :  'You  handsome  villain — engaged  to  marry  one 
young  girl  and  making  love  to  another!  Oh!  for 
shame!  for  shame!'  It's  a  pity  that  Miss  Dorothy 
hasn't  a  good  big  brother  to  give  him  the  trouncing  lie 
so  richly  deserves.  The  Lord  knows  it's  an  unhappy 
life  Miss  Dorothy  will  lead  with  him,  and  it  would  be 
a  blessing  in  disguise  if  something  should  happen  to 
prevent  the  marriage  from  taking  place.  As  for  that 
sly,  black  minx,  Iris  Vincent,  she  must  have  a  soul  as 
,  hard  as  adamant  and  cruel  as  death  to  cheat  a  poor 
:  blind  girl  out  of  her  lover,  and  to  try  all  her  arts  to 
win  him  from  her.  They  fairly  make  love  to  each 
other  in  her  very  presence ;  and  she,  poor  soul !  never 
knows  it,  because  she  is  blind!  The  curse  of  God  will 
surely  fall  on  them,  and  they  will  be  punished  for  their 
treachery  to  poor  Miss  Dorothy — and  she  so  trustful 


122  PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY 

and  inno-ent!  I  wish  I  could  think  of  some  plan  to 
break  that  up.  Goodness  knows,  I  wouldn't  do  such 
a  thing  for  anything  in  the  wide  world.  I  have  al- 
ways  believed  that  the  angels  take  terrible  vengeance 
upon  any  girl  who  takes  another  girl's  lover  from  her 
by  her  wicked  coquetries." 

By  this  time  she  had  reached  Dorothy's  boudoir. 
She  found  her  young  mistress  waiting  for  her  with 
the  greatest  impatience. 

"Well,"  said  Dorothy,  quite  as  soon  as  she  had 
opened  the  door,  "who's  down  there?" 

For  an  instant  the  inclination  was  strong  within 
Katy's  heart  to  tell  the  whole  truth  of  what  she  had 
seen  and  heard.  It  was  not  the  dollar,  which  seemed 
to  burn  in  her  pocket,  that  made  her  hold  her  tongue, 
but  the  fear  of  giving  poor  blind  Dorothy  pain,  that 
caused  her  to  hold  her  peace. 

"Only  Mr.  Kendal,  miss." 

"I  thought  I  heard  voices,"  she  said,  wonderingly. 

"Miss  Vincent  was  there  when  I  entered  the  room, 
but  left  a  moment  or  so  after,"  answered  Katy,  truth 
fully. 

"Were  they  talking  together?  And  what  were  they 
talking  about?"  asked  Dorothy,  eagerly. 

"That  I  can  not  say,  miss,"  returned  the  girl,  flush 
ing  to  the  roots  of  her  hair,  and  inwardly  thankful 
that  her  poor  young  mistress  could  not  see  the  distress 
which  she  knew  must  be  mirrored  on  her  face. 

"Were  they  speaking  so  low  that  you  could  not 
hear  them  ?"  inquired  Dorothy,  quickly. 

"Oh,  no,  miss!  quite  loud;  but  I  was  not  listening.'' 

Dorothy  gave  a  sigh  of  relief. 

"If  it  were  not  so  late,  I  would  go  down  stairs,"  she 


PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY  123 

said,  reflectively.  "But  then,  there's  the  ball  to- 
inorrow  night.  I  will  be  up  late,  so  I  suppose  it  would 
be  just  as  well  for  me  to  rest  to-night,  for  I  want  to 
look  my  best,  Katy.  I  would  give  the  world  to  look 
bright  and  gay  as  any  girl  there.  I  could  hear  the 
music,  the  patter  of  dancing  feet,  and  the  sound  of 
merry  laughter.  And,  oh,  Katy!  perhaps  I  might 
forget  for  a  few  brief  moments  my  terrible  affliction. 
I  know  Harry  will  be  happy  amid  the  brilliant  throng-, 
and  that  thought  alone  will  be  joy  enough  for  me. 
You  shall  sit  with  me,  Katy,  to  hold  my  wraps,  my 
flowers,  my  fan,  and — and  you  must  watch  sharp,  and 
tell  me,  Katy,  if  he  dances  with  any  pretty  girl  the 
second  time." 

She  felt  that  she  must  make  a  confidant  of  some 
one,  even  though  it  was  Katy,  the  maid. 

"You  must  not  think  for  one  moment  I  am  jealous, 
Katy,"  she  said,  "for  I  assure  you  I  am  not;  only  as 
(host  I  should  not  like  him  to  pay  too  much  courtesy  to 
any  one  person,  you  know." 

"Certainty  not,"  assented  Katy. 

"I  have  asked  Iris  what  she  intends  to  wear,  but 
for  some  reason  she  does  not  tell  me,  so  I  want  you 
to  notice  particularly  what  she  has  on,  and  if  she  looks 
very  pretty.  But  then,  I  think  she  is  sure  to  lock 
nice." 

"I  shall  look  very  closely,  you  may  be  sure  of  that," 
responded  Katy,  "and  tell  you  of  everything  that  goes 
on — who's  dancing,  and  who's  sitting  in  corners  flirt 
ing,  and  just  who  Mr.  Kendal  dances  with.  Will  he 
take  you  in  to  supper,  miss?"  she  asked,  suddenly. 

She  was  sorry  the  moment  after  that  she  had  a^ked 


124  PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY 

fr 

the  question,  -for  Dorothy's  poor,  sightless  eyes  filled 
with  great  tears. 

f  "You  know  that  he  would  like  to,"  she  murmured, 
faintly,  "but  it  would  be  a  ghastly  sight — a  poor  blind 
girl  sitting  at  the  festal  board  with  the  gay  guests. 
Oh!  why  did  God*  put  such  a  terrible  affliction  upon 
me?"  throwing  out  her  little  white  hands  and  beating 
the  air  as  she  sobbed  aloud  in  her  agony.  "Why  can 
1  not  enter  into  his  joys,  and  share  them  with  him  as 
others  do?  Oh,  Katy!  will  I  not  make  but  a  sorry 
wife  for  my  handsome  king — my  idol  ?  I  wonder 
what  he  can  find  about  me  to  hold  me  still  dear  in  his 
eyes,  for  I  am  no  longer  pretty,  willful,  madcap  Doro- 
thv.  as  they  once  called  me." 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 


The  night  of  the  ball  came  at  last — the  night  which 
had  been  looked  forward  to  so  anxiously  for  weeks 
by  many  a  maiden  and  brave  swain. 

By  the  time  night  had  drawn  her  sable  curtains  over 
the  sleeping  earth  all  the  preparations  had  been  com 
pleted  at  Gray  Gables,  and  when  the  lights  were 
lighted  it  presented  such  a  brilliant  spectacle  that  those 
who  witnessed  never  forgot  it. 

The  guests  began  to  arrive  early,  in  order  to  have 
a  long  evening  of  enjoyment. 

Late  that  afternoon  an  odd  discussion  had  arisen 
which  came  near  wrecking  the  whole  affair. 

Mrs.  Kemp,  Iris,  and  Dorothy  were  all  seated  in 
the  general  sitting-room  discussing  the  last  but  by  fTo 


PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY  125 

means  least  important  matter  of  who  should  receive 
the  guests. 

"You  are  the  young  lady  of  the  house,"  said  Mrs. 
Kemp,  turning  to  Dorothy  with  a  puzzled  air,  "and  of 
course  every  cne  expects  >ou  to  perform  that  pleas 
ant  duty;  but — " 

"Oh,  no,  no!"  cut  in  Dorothy.  "My — my  affliction 
makes  that  an  impossibility.  You  must  do  it,  Mrs. 
Kemp." 

"Really,  child,  my  presence  is  so  much  of  a  neces 
sity  in  looking  after  the  servants  and  overlooking 
affairs  in  general  that  I  assure  you  I  can  not  be  spared 
even  for  a  brief  half  hour;  so,  as  near  as  I  can  see, 
Iris  must  take  your  place  for  that  occasion,  with  Mr. 
Kendal,  to  welcome  your  guests.  What  do  you  say, 
ray  dear?"  she  asked,  turning  anxiously  to  the  beauty, 
who  sat  disconsolately  by  the  window,  listening  to  the 
conversation,  feeling  confident  as  to  how  the  debate 
must  end — in  her  om'n  favor. 

"I'm  sure  I  do  not  mind  doing  so,  if  the  arrange 
ment  suits  Mr.  Kendal  and — Dorothy." 

Harry  entered  the  room  at  this  stage,  and  of  course 
the  matter  was  quickly  laid  before  him. 

"Why,  yes,  Iris  can  help  me  receive  the  guests,"  he 
declared.  "What  a  happy  thought!  I  supposed  I 
alone  was  to  be  delegated  to  that  task.  Yes,  let  us 
settle  it  in  that  manner,  by  all  means." 

As  usual,  no  one  thought  of  consulting  Dorothy's 
opinion.  Indeed,  they  scarcely  missed  her  presence 
when,  a  few  moments  later,  she  slipped  from  the  room 
to  have  a  good  cry  over  the  matter. 

Katy  was  sfirtled  as  she  beheld  her  white  face  as 


126  PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY 

she  groped  her  way  into  the  room.  She  sat  so  still 
that  Dorothy  imagined  herself  quite  alone. 

"I — I  can  not  bear  it!"  she. sobbed,  flinging  herself 
face  downward  on  the  carpet  with  a  wretched  little 
sob.  "In  everything  she  seems  to  come  between  me 
and  my  lover !  Oh,  I  wish  to  Heaven  that  Iris  Vincent 
would  go  away !  Harry  has  not  been  the  same  to  ma 
since  she  has  been  beneath  this  roof.  They  tell  me  it 
is  my  imagination,  but  my  heart  tells  me  it  is  no  idl6 
fancy.  She  will  be  standing  by  my  lover's  side  re 
ceiving  my  guests !  Oh,  angels  up  in  Heaven,  forgive 
me  if  the  pangs  of  jealousy,  cruel  as  death,  spring  up; 
in  my  poor  heart  at  that  bitter  thought !"  And  another] 
thought :  "  Harry  is  beginning  to  depend  so  much  upoti 
her  society.  Now,  if  I  ask,  'Where  is  Harry?'  the 
answer  is,  'Out  driving  or  walking  or  singing  with 
Iris.'  Katy  tells  me  she  is  very  plain  of  face — nay, 
even  homely.  If  she  were  beautiful  I  should  be  in 
terror  too  horrible  for  words.  It  is  wicked  of  me,  but, 
oh!  I  can  not  help  but  thank  God  she  is  not  fair  ofi 
$ace,  to  attract  my  darling  from  me." 

Tears  rolled  down  Katy's  cheeks  as  she  listened. 
Not  for  the  world  would  she  have  let  her  poor  young 
mistress  know  that  her  grief  had  had  a  witness.  She 
kept  perfectly  quiet,  making  no  sound,  scarcely  breath 
ing,  until  Dorothy  passed  slowly  into  an  inner  apart 
ment,  and  she  was  heartily  glad  that  she  touched  her 
bell  a  moment  after. 

Katy  hurried  to  her  with  alacrity,  taking  pains, 
ihowever,  to  tiptoe  to  the  door,  open  it,  and  close  it 
again,  quite  as  if  she  had  just  come  in  from  the  cor 
ridor. 

"Now,  Katy,"  said  her  young  mistress,  "you  must 


PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY  1271 

make  haste  to  help  me  dress.  I  am  impatient.  I  feel 
dreadfully  nervous,  as  though  a  great  calamity  was  to 
take  place.  I  feel  just  such  a  strange  sensation  as 
seemed  to  clutch  at  my  heart  before  that  terrible  acci 
dent  happened  that  has  blighted  my  whole  life." 

"Oh,  dear  Miss  Dorothy,  please  don't  talk  so!" 
tried  Katy,  aghast.  "I'm  sure  it  isn't  right,  if  I  may 
make  so  bold  as  to  say  so  to  you.  I  have  always  heard 
it  said:  'Never  cross  a  bridge  of  trouble  until  you 


come  to  it/  " 

"  'Coming    events   cast    their    shadows    before/ n , 
jquoted  Dorothy,  slowly. 

"I  have  made  your  dress  look  so  lovely,  Miss  Doro-* 
thy,"  she  cried,  bravely  attempting  to  turn  her 
thoughts  into  another  channel,  "and  it's  right  sorry  I 
am  that  you  can't  see  it.  Every  one  will  say  that  it  is 
the  prettiest  dress  at  the  ball.  You  said  I  might  fix 
it  any  way  that  I  liked,  so  long  as  it  looked  grand." 

"How  have  you  arranged  it,  Katy?"  asked  Doro 
thy,  with  a  faint  smile,  being  girl  enough  to  forget  her 
sorrow  for  an  instant  in  speaking  of  her  ball  dress. 

"It  is  your  new  white  tulle,  miss,  that  I  picked 
out — the  one  that  you  had  made  to  go  to  parties  in, 
providing  you  were  ever  asked  to  any,  the  first  week 
you  came  to  Gray  Gables,  you  remember." 

"Oh,  yes/'  murmured  Dorothy,  clasping  Tier  little 
hands.  "I — I  remember  so  well  how  nice  it  looked  on 
tne,  too." 

"You  looked  like  an  angel  in  it!"  declared  Katy; 
resuming:  "Well,  it's  that  one,  miss,  and  I  have  been 
embroidering  flowers  all  over  the  front  of  it  as  a  sur 
prise  for  you,  and,  oh,  they  look  perfectly  magnificent 
on  it! — just  as  though  some  one  stood  near  you  and 


128  PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY 

threw  a  great  handful  of  blossoms  over  you  and  they 
clung  to  your  white  tulle  dress  just  where  they  fell.7' 

"What  kind  of  flowers  are  they?"  asked  Dorothy, 
delightedly. 

"Wisteria  blossoms,"  said  Katy. 

Dorothy  sprang  to  her  feet,  pale  as  death. 

"You  have  embroidered  purple  wisteria  blossoms  all 
over  my  ball  dress?"  she  whispered,  in  an  awful  voice* 

"Yes,"  returned  the  girl,  wondering  what  was  com- 
•*ng  next. 

"Oh,  Katy!"  she  cried,  in  a  choking"  voice,  "don't 
you  know  that  purple  wisteria* blossoms  mean  tears?" 

"I  don't  believe  in  all  those  old  women's  supersti 
tions,  miss,"  declared  Katy,  stoutly.  "I  imagine  that 
it  was  got  up  by  some  muddy-complexioned  creature, 
whose  only  annoyance  was  that  the  pretty  blossoms 
didn't  look  good  on  her,  and  consequently  she  gave 
them  a  bad  name  to  keep  others  from  wearing  them. 
There's  plenty  of  such  things  being  done." 

This  explanation,  or  rather  explosion  of  the  pet 
superstition,  amused  Dorothy  vastly. 

"Well,  I  shall  not  mind  the  old  adage  about  wisteria 
blossoms  and  tears.  I'll  wear  the  dress  anyhow,  Katy, 
come  what  may.  But  do  you  know  what  Iris  is  going 
to  wear?  I  haven't  been  able  to  find  out." 

"Nor  has  any  one,  ma'am,"  muttered  Katy.  "She 
has  been  making  up  her  ball  dress  in  her  own  room 
for  the  past  fortnight,  and  keeps  the  door  securely 
fastened;  but  we  shall  see  very  soon  now,  for  it  is 
quite  time  to  dress,  and  she  has  to  be  ready  first  to 
receive  the  guests.  I  heard  Mr.  Kendal  telling  her  so, 
a  few  moments  since,  as  they  passed  through  the  cor- 
just  as  I  opened  th£  4oQr." 


PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY  129 

She  saw  Dorothy  turn  a  shade  paler,  and  her  head 

drooped,  but  she  made  no  reply. 

"  "Shall  I  commence  now  to  arrange  your  toilet?" 

she  asked,  anxious  to  dress  her  mistress,  and  then  don 

her  own  new  dress  for  the  gala  occasion.  V 

"I  don't  want  to  go  into  the  ball-room  until  all  the 
guests  have  arrived-,  and  then  I  want  to  slip  in 
iquietly,"  said  Dorothy;  "so  you  need  not  hurry." 

It  was  a  sorry  task  at  best  for  Katy,  dressing  her, 
poor,  blind  mistress  for  the  ball. 

Ah!  it  was  pitiful  to  see  her  sitting  so  patiently' 
there  with  her  back  to  the  mirror,  while  the  maid,  with 
great  tears  rolling  down  her  cheeks,  fastened  the 
clouds  of  tulle  here  and  there  with  the  dark  blossoms, 
and  twined  them  in  the  golden  curls  that  fell  about 
her  white  neck. 

Oh,  how  radiantly  fair  she  looked !  And  Katy  knew 
that  no  one  gazing  in  those  beautiful  violet  eyes  would 
ever  realize  that  the  lovely  girl  was  blind — stone  blind. 

Her  hand  trembled  violently  as,  an  hour  later,  she 
clung  to  her  maid's  arm,  and  timidly,  shrinkingly  en 
tered  the  great  ball-room  crowded  with  guests.  No 
one  noticed  their  entrance,  the  throng  was  so  great, 
and  she  had  her  heart's  desire.  She  slipped  into  a  cor 
ner  without  her  presence  being  commented  on. 

She  did  not  know  that  a  little  place  among  a  bower 
of  ferns  had  been  previously  arranged  for  her  by 
Katy,  where  she  could  sit  and  hear  the  music  without 
being  seen  herself;  nor  would  Katy  be  seen  by  the 
guests. 

"Tell  me,"  she  whispered,  nervously  clutching  the 
girl's  hand,  "where  is  Harry,  and  is — is  Miss  Vinceiii 
with  him,  and  how  does  she  look?" 


130  PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY 

Before  Katy  could  frame  a  reply  the  last  question 
was  rudely  answered  by  a  stranger.  Two  young  ladies 
at"  that  instant  dropped  down  into  seats  so  near  Doro 
thy  that  she  could  easily  have  touched  them  had  she 
reached  out  her  hand  from  her  screen  of  palms  and 
roses. 

"What  a  magnificent-looking  girl  that  Iris  Vincent 
is!"  cried  one  of  the  young  girls.  "The  fame  of  her 
great  beauty  is  spreading  everywhere;  but  I  never 
dreamed  she  .was  as  beautiful  as  the  description  I  have 
heard  of  her,  and  I  find  she  far  surpasses  it.  I 
wonder  that  poor,  blind  Dorothy  Glenn  is  not  jealous 
that  her  affianced  husband  should  pay  the  girl  so  much 
attention."  •  •< 

"This  is  the  first  time  I  have  seen  her,"  replied 
her  companion,  "and  I,  too,  am  amazed  at  her  mar 
velous  beauty.  As  I  stepped  into  the  ball-room  she 
was  the  first  person  I  beheld,  and  she  has  dazzled  my 
eyes  ever  since.  Oh,  it  was  a  wonderful  picture  she 
made,  standing  tinder  a  slender  palm  tree,  in  her  white 
tulle  dress  flecked  with  gold  and  pearls,  and  those 
blood-red  rubies  encircling  her  white  throat  and  per 
fect  arms  and  coiled  in  her  jetty  curls ;  and  then  those 
glorious  dark  eyes !  No  wonder  men  lose  their  hearts 
over  her  at  the  first  fatal  glance  into  their  wonderful, 
mesmeric  depths.  She  is  fairer  than  the  fairest  of 
poets'  dreams." 

Dorothy  listened  with  bated  breath",  then  turned 
quickly  to  Katy. 

"Have  you  deceived  me — me,  a  poor  blind  girl?" 
stie  cried  in  a  terrible  voice  that  sounded  like  a  cry 
from  the  tomb.  "You  told  me  that  the  girl  who  had 
come  beneath  this  roof  was  homely  and  terribly  plain. 


PRETTY   MADCAP  DOROTHY  131 

\They  say  she  is  beautiful.     Oh,  God!  have  you  de 
ceived  me  ?    I  must  know  the  truth  at  once." 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

"Katy."  repeated  Dorothy,  in  a  shrill,  awful  whis 
per,  "tell  me,  have  you  willfuly  deceived  me?  You 
have  said  Miss  Vincent  was  plain — nay,  more,  that 
she  was  homely — and  on  all  sides  of  me  I  hear  them 
speaking  of  her  wonderful  beauty." 
\  Katy  sank  back  shivering  in  her  seat.  » 

"It's  fine  feathers  that  make  fine  birds  to-night," 
she  rejoined,  faintly.  "No  wonder  they  think  Iris 
iVincent  looks  well  to-night.  She's  rigged  out  like  a 
real  peacock;  and  her  face  is  painted,  too.  I  can  see 
it  clear  across  the  room;  and  I  am  quite  sure  that 
'Mr.  Kendal  has  noticed  it;  and  I've  heard  him  say 
that  if  there's  anything  which  he  detests,  it's  girls 
,Avho  whiten  their  faces  with  chalk.'7 

Still  Dorothy  did  not  feel  comforted.  A  nameless 
[fear  which  she  could  scarcely  define  by  words  had 
trept  into  her  heart,  and  a  smoldering  flame  of  jeal 
ousy  burst  suddenly  forth;  and  that  was  the  begin 
ning  of  a  terrible  end. 

She  leaned  wearily  back  in  her  seat,  and  looked 
so  white  that  Katy  was  frightened. 

"Shall  I  get  you  a  glass  of  ice-water,  Miss  Doro- 
fchy?"  she  cried. 

The  pale  lips  murmured  assent,  and  she  flew  to  do 
her  mistress'  bidding. 

5. eft  to  herself,  Dorothy  sprang  hastily  to  her  feet. 


r  PRETTY   MADCAP  DOROTHY 

*It  almost  seems  as  if  I  shall  go  mad!"  she  tmir- 
tiiured — "yes,  mad — with  this  terrible  fear  clutching 
at  my  heart f.  I  must  have  air.  I  am  stifling  1" 

All  unmindful  of  the  errand  upon  which  she  had  ' 
ggnt  Katy,  Dorothy  rose  hastily  to  her  feet,  and,  re-  ; 
numbering  that  there  was  a  rear  entrance  leading 
from  the  ball-room  near  where  she  sat,  she  groped  her; 
g^ay  thither. 

The  night  air  fanned  her  feverish  cheek,  but  it 
Hid  not  cool  the  fever  in  her  brain  or  the  fire  that 
Seemed  eating  into  her  very  heart.  A  thousand 
fancies,  so  weird  and  strange  that  they  terrified  her, 
seemed  to  talce  possession  of  her  brain.  She  had  re- 
,Iied  so  entirely  upon  what  they  had  told  her— that 
Miss  Vincent  was  very  plain — that  the  feeling  of 
jealousy  had  never  before  occurred  to  her;  for  well 
she  knew  that  Harry  Kendal  was  a  beauty-worshiper, 
and  that  no  matter  how  much  he  might  be  thrown  in 
contact  with  a  girl  who  was  plain  of  face,  he  would 
never  dream  of  being  anything  else  than  simply  cour 
teous  to  her. 

Now  affairs  seemed  to  take  on  a  new  and  hideous 
form. 

She  recalled  each  and  every  incident  that  had 
taken  place  since  Miss  Vincent's  arrival,  and 

"Trifles  light  as  air 

Seemed  confirmation  strong  as  Holy  Writ" 
£S  she  viewed  them  now. 

"Even  the  guests  notice  how  attentive  he  is  to  Her,** 
she  said  to  herself,  with  a  bitter  sob,  wringing-  her 
cold  little  hands  and  clutching  them  tightly  over  her 
heart 


PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY 

Suddenly  she  heard  the  sound  of  voices,  and  sank 
down  upon  a  scat  at  hand  until  they  should  pass  by. 

She  did  not  know  that  the  seat  which  she  had  se^ 
lected  on  the  broad  piazza  was  directly  back  of  one 
of  the  large,  vine-wreathed,  fluted  pillars,  and  in  the 
dense  shadow. 

This  time  she  readily  divined  that  the  voices  must 
belong  to  two  light-hearted,  happy  girls. 

"Are  you  having  a  good  time,  Grace,  dear?"  asked 
one. 

"Oh,  quite  the  jolliest  I  have  ever  had  in  all  my 
life!;?  was  the  reply.  "I  haven't  missed  one  dance, 
and  all  my  partners  have  been  so  handsome — quite 
the  prettiest  fellows  in  the  ball-room !  And  how  is  it 
with  you?" 

"Oh,  Fm  enjoying  myself,  too!"  laughed  the  other 
girl,  "But  did  you  notice  what  a  ninny  I  had  in  that 
last  waltz-quadrille?  Don't  you  hate  partners  who 
stand  away  off,  and  barely  touch  your  finger-tips  as 
they  dance  with  you?  Upon  my  word,  I'd  rather 
have  the  straight-as-a-mackcrel  kind,  who  hold  you 
so  tight  you  can  scarcely  catch  your  breath!" 

And  at  this  both  girls  went  off  into  uproarious 
laughter,  when  suddenly  one  of  them  exclaimed: 

"Have  you  yet  had  a  waltz  with  handsome  Harry 
Kendal  ?" 

"No,"  returned  the  other,  ruefully.  "At  the  last 
ball  I  went  to  he  was  almost  wild  to  put  his  name 
clown  for  every  waltz  with  me.  But,  after  all,  I  can 
not  wonder  at  that  when  I  see  how  greatly  he  is  in 
fatuated  with  the  beauty  of  the  ball  to-night — the 
fair  Iris  Vincent." 

"Have  you  heard  all  the  talk  to-ni^ht  about  that?** 


134  PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY 

chimed  in  the  other,  her  voice  sinking  to  a  low,  con 
fidential  tone.  "Every  one  has  noticed  it,  and  it  is 
the  talk  of  the  ball-room." 

"It  is  shameful  for  him  to  carry  on  so,"  returned 
her  companion,  "when  every  one  knows  that  his  wed 
ding  day  with  poor,  blind  Dorothy  Glenn  is  so  neas 
at  hand." 

"Do  you  know,"  said  the  other,  slowly,  "that  I 
doubt  if  he  will  ever  marry  Dorothy  now?  You  must 
remember  that  he  became  engaged  to  her  before  that 
terrible  accident.  And  do  you  know  there  is  great 
diversity  of  opinion  as  to  whether  the  poor  fellow; 
should  marry  her  or  not.  It  is  very  nice  to  read  about 
in  books— of  lovers  proving  true  to  their  -fiancees 
through  every  trouble  and  tribulation — but  I  tell  you 
they  don't  do  it  in  real  life.  When  trouble  conies  to 
a  girl,  nine  lovers  out  of  ten  fly  from  her  'to  seek 
pastures  new ;'  and,  after  all,  to  come  right  down  to 
the  fine  point,  between  you  and  me,  could  you  really 
blame  Harry  KendaF  if  he  were  to  break  off  with 
Dorothy?  He  is  young  and  handsome,  and  I  say  that 
ii  would  be  a  bitter  shame  for  him  to  go  through  life 
with  a  blind  girl  for  a  wife;  and  when  I  think  of  it 
I  actually  feel  indignant  with  the  girl  for  holding  him 
to  his  engagement  under  such  circumstances.  She 
ought  to  know  that  in  time  he  would  actually  hate  hec 
for  it.  She  can  share  none  of  his  joys.  Why,  she 
would  be  only  a  pitiful  burden  to  handsome  Harry 
Kendal !  That  girl  whom  he  seems  so  infatuated  wTith! 
would  be  a  thousand  times  more  suitable  for  him.  Oh, 
what  a  handsome  couple  they  do  make!  And  every 
one  can  see,  though  they  think  they  hide  it  so  well, 
how  desperately  they  are  in  love  with  each  other." 


PRETTY   MADCAP    DOROTHY  135 

They  tnovecl  on,  little  dreaming  of  the  ruin  and 
blight  they  had  left  behind  them. 

They  were  scarcely  out  of  hearing  when  the  great 
cry  that  had  been  choked  back  so  long  burst  forth  in 
a  wild,  piercing  wail  of  agony  that  meant  the  breaking 
then  and  there  of  a  human  heart.  But  the  darice- 
rnusic  inside,  to  which  the  joyous,  merry  feet  kept 
time,  completely  drowned  it. 

Dorothy  had  risen  from  her  chair,  and  the  look  on 
her  face  was  terrible  to  behold. 

"Let  me  quite  understand  it,"  she  whispered — "let 
me  try  to  realize  and  grasp  the  awful  truth :  Harry 
Kendal,  my  lover,  has  ceased  to  care  for  me,  and  is 
lavishing  his  attention,  nay,  more,  his  affection,  upon 
another  and  one  who  in  return  loves  him;  and  they 
say  that  1  should  give  him  up  to  her — I,  who  love 
him  better  than  my  own  life!  He  is  all  I  have  left 
me  in  my  terrible  affliction,  and  they  would  take  even 
him  from  me  and  give  him  to  another.  They  said  it 
was  not  right  for  me  to  cling  to  him,  and  to  burden 
him  with  a  blind  wife  through  life — that  the  thought 
is  torture  to  him.  Oh,  God  in  Heaven!  can  it  be 
true?" 

And  again  the  angels  at  the  great  White  Throne 
were  startled  with  the  piercing  cries  of  woe  that 
broke  from  the  girl's  white  lips,  which  once  more  the 
dance-music  mercifully  drowned. 

"I  will  go  to  him  and  confront  him  with  what  I 
have  heard.  He  shall  choose  between  us  before  all 
the  people  assembled  here  to-night.  I  will  fling  rny- 
self  upon  my  knees  at  his  feet,  crying  out:  'Oh,  my 
darling!  my  love!  my  life!  tell  me  that  the  cruel 
rumors  which  I  have  heard  are  false — that  you  do 


136  SRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY 

not  hate  me  because — because  of  the  awful  affliction 
that  Heaven  has  seen  fit  to  put  upon  me !  Turn  from 
the  girl  by  your  side  to  me — to  me,  your  promised 
bride!  She  can  never  love  you  as  I  do.  You  are 
my  all — my  worldt  If  I  were  to  die  to-day — aye, 
within  this  hour — my  soul  could  not  leave  this  earth 
while  you  were  here!  I  would  cling  to  you  in  life  or 
in  death!'" 

With  a  swift  motion  Dorothy  turned  and  re-entered 
the  house,  forgetful  of  her  blindness,  and  to  count 
the  steps  which  she  had  taken,  remembering  only  that 
she  was  undergoing  the  greatest  trial  of  her  life. 

Swift  as  a  fluttering  swallow  she  hastened  across 
the  broad  piazza,  but  in  the  confusion  of  her  whirling 
brain  she  had  mistaken  the  direction. 

One  instant  more,  too  quick  for  a  cry,  too  quick 
for  a  moan,  she  had  stepped  off  the  veranda,  and  fell, 
with  a  terrible  thud  down  five  feet  below,  and  lay, 
stunned  and  unconscious,  on  the  graveled  walk. 

The  shock  was  so  sudden,  so  terrible  that  surely 
God  in  His  mercy  was  kind  in  that  the  fearful  pain 
of  the  fall  was  not  realized  by  her. 

The  moments  dragged  themselves  wearily  by  as  she 
lay  there.  Fully  half  an  hour  elapsed.  No  one 
missed  her  save  Katy,  no  one  thought  of  locking  for 
her  out  in  the  cold  and  darkness,  which  was  pene 
trated  only  by  the  dim  light  of  the  stars.  The  dew 
of  night  fell  silently,  pityingly  upon  the  white,  up 
turned  face  and  curling  golden  hair,  which  lay  tangled 
among  the  sharp  pebbles.  Gradually  consciousness 
dawned  upon  her  brain.  The  warm  blood  crept  back 
to  the  chilled  veins  and  pulsed  feebly,  but  with  it  came 


PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY  137 

the  remembrance  of  the  terrible  blow  that  had  fallen 
fcpon  her. 

Dorothy  staggered  to  her  feet,  but  as  she  did  so  a 
strange  electric  shock  seemed  to  pass  through  her 
body  and  balls  of  fire  to  whirl  before  her  eyes.  But 
as  they  cleared  away  a  great  cry  broke  from  the 
girl's  lips: 

"Oh,  God!  can  it  be  true?  Heaven  has  restored 
my  sight  to  me  as  miraculously  as  it  was  taken  from 
jrnel". 

Once  again  she  saw  the  blue  sky,  with  its 
myriads  of  golden-hearted  stars,  bending  over  her; 
the  great  stone  house,  with  its  lighted  windows,  and 
beyond,  the  tall,  dark  oak  trees,  with  their  great, 
widespread  tossing  branches;  and  she  fell  upon  her 
knees  and  kissed  the  very  stones  at  her  feet  and  the 
green  blades  of  waving-  grass  that  she  never  once 
thought  she  would  see  again,  and  she  raised  her  white 
arms  to  heaven  with  such  piteous  cries  of  thankful 
ness  that  the  angels  must  have  heard  and  wept  over. 

Yes,  Dorothy's  sight  had  been  restored  to  her  as 
miraculously  as  it  had  been  taken  from  her. 

But  even  in  the  midst  of  her  great  joy  the  dregs 
of  woe  still  lingered  as  memory  brought  back  to  her 
the  terrible  ordeal  through  which  she  had  passed. 

With  bated  breath  she  turned  and  crept  swiftly 
back  to  the  house  and  up  to  the  long  windows  that 
opened  out  on  the  porch,  sobbing  bitterly  to  herself 
that  she  would  see  at  last  if  her  lover  was  true  or 
to  her. 


PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY 

CHAPTER  XX. 


With  her  heart  throbbing  with  the  most  intense  ex-  \ 
citement,  Dorothy  pushed  aside  the  great  clusters  of  ! 
crimson  creepers  and  thick  green  leaves,  pressed  her  ; 
white  face  close  against  the  window-pane,  and  gazed 
in  upon  the  gorgeous  scene. 

For  an  instant  the  great  blaze  of  light  dazzled  her; 
weak  eyes,  and  everything  seemed  to  swim  before  her. 

But  gradually,  little  by  little,  she  began  to  dis 
tinguish  objects,  and  at  last  her  eyes  fell  upon  the. 
face  of  Harry  Kendal. 

With  a  great  cry,  the  girl  clutched  her  hands  tightly 
over  her  heart.  She  never  thought  that  she  would 
look  upon  his  face  again  in  this  world. 

It  was  his  face — the  face  of  her  hero,  her  king, 
before  which  all  else  paled  as  the  moonbeams  pale 
before  the  glaring  light  of  the  rising  sun.  Then  sud 
denly  she  saw  the  face  beside  him  into  which  he  was 
gazing,  and  it  was  then  that  the  heart  in  her  bosom 
almost  turned  to  stone. 

Never  in  all  her  life  had  she  beheld  such  a  vision  * 
of  loveliness,  and  she  knew  in  an  instant  that  the 
proud  beauty  must  be  Iris  Vincent. 

Slowly  Dorothy  crept  around  to  the  other  side  o£ 
the  porch,  up  to  the  window,  that  she  might  have  a 
better  view  of  them,  and  perhaps  she  could  hear  what 
they  were  saying. 

But  as  she  reached  it,  to  her  great  disappointment 
she  saw  them  link  arms  and  stroll  out  of  the  ball-room 
toward  the  conservatory,  and  thither  she  bent  her 
Steps,  intent  upon  reaching  it  before  they  did. 


PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY  139 

She  had  barely  screened  herself  behind  a  tall  /or- 
'diniere  of  roses  and  flowering  plants,  ere,  laughing 
and  chattering,  the  two  entered  the  floral  bower. 

"The  ball  is  a  grand  success,  Iris/'  he  was  saying, 
gayly;  "they  all  seem  to  be  enjoying  themselves  im 
mensely.  How  is  it  with  you?" 

"It  is  a  night  that  will  stand  out  forever  in  my 
life,"  she  responded,  glancing  up  at  him  with  those 
dangerously  dark  eyes,  and  a  smile  on  her  red  lips. 

The  girl  who  watched  them  breathlessly  from  be 
hind  the  roses  clutched  her  hands  over  her  heart. 

The  sight  maddened  her.  They  were  so  near  each 
other,  their  heads  bent  so  close ;  and  while  she  gazed, 
buddenly  Kendal  bent  still  closer  and  kissed  the  girl's 
lips. 

Dorothy  tried  to  cry  aloud,  to  spring  out  and  con 
front  them.  Her  brain  reeled ;  the  blood,  chill  as  ice, 
stood  still  in  her  veins,  and  without  a  cry,  or  even  a 
moan  she  sank  down  unconscious  in  her  hiding-place. 

"What  is  that  sound?"  cried  Iris,  with  a  start. 

"Only  some  of  the  clumsy  servants  in  the  corridor 
•without,"  replied  Kendal.  "But,  Iris,  are  you  trying 
to  avoid  me?  I  have  brought  you  here  to  tell  you 
something,  and  you  must  listen.  The  time  has  come 
•when  we  must  fully  understand  each  other.  You 
know  quite  as  well  as  I  that  the  life  we  are  leading, 
Iris,  can  not  go  on  like  this  forever.  From  the  first 
moment  we  met  the  attraction  I  felt  toward  you 
changed  the  whole  current  of  my  life." 

Iris  hid  her  face  in  the  bouquet  of  white  hyacinths 
Which  she  carried. 

"It  is  too  late  to  talk  of  that  nowt"  she  murmured. 


140  PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY 

"Your  neart  went  out  to  another  before — before  I 
met  you." 

"There  is  such  a  thing  as  affections  waning  Vner. 
one  discovers  that  one's  heart  is  not  truly  mated, 
Iris,"  he  cried. 

She  did  not  answer;  and  thus  emboldened  by  her 
silence,  he  went  on,  huskily : 

"Let  me  give  you  the  whole  history  of  my  meeting 
\vith  Dorothy  Glenn,  from  first  to  last,  and  you  will 
understand  the  situation  better.  You  can  realise, 
Iris,  that  an  acquaintance  which  commences  through 
a  flirtation,  as  it  were,  can  never  end  in  true  love. 
Such  an  acquaintance  is  not  a  lasting  one.  Conie  and 
sit  down  on  this  rustic  seat,  Iris,  and  listen;  and 
as  we  sit  here  in  the  dim,  mellow  light,  you  shall 
judge  me,  and  your  decision  shall  seal  my  fate." 

At  the  self -same  moment  in  which  Harry  Kendal 
was  beginning  his  narrative,  there  was  quite  a  corn- 
motion  at  the  outer  gate  which  guarded  the  main  en 
trance  of  Gray  Gables. 

One  of  the  servants,  lounging  lazily  at  his  post  of 
duty,  was  suddenly  startled  out  of  the  doze  into 
which  he  had  fallen  by  the  shadow  of  a  woman  flit 
ting  hurriedly  past  him. 

"Hold  on,  there!  Hold  on,  I  say!  Who  are  you, 
C.nd  what  do  you  want?" 

A  figure  clad  in  a  long  dark  cloak,  hooded  and 
veiled,  stopped  short  with  a  little  exclamation,  which 
he  could  not  quite  catch. 

"Hold  on,  there!  Where  are  you  going?"  he  re 
peated,  springing  to  her  side.  "There  is  something 
going  on  here  to-night.  You  can't  enter  these  grounds 
until  I  know  who  you  are  and  what  your  business  is." 


PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY  141 

"This  is  Gray  Gables,  is  it  not?"  exclaimed  a  trem 
ulous  voice  from  behind  the  veil. 

"I  should  have  supposed  you  would  have  found 
that  out  before  you  entered  the  grounds,"  declared 
the  man,  suspiciously. 

She  saw  her  mistake,  and  started. 

"I  only  wanted  to  make  sure  that  I  was  right,"  she 
said,  apologetically.  "I  —  I  have  business  with  the 
housekeeper;  I  want  to  see  her." 

Before  she  could  utter  another  word  he  whistled 
sharply.  His  call  brought  a  small  lad  to  his  side. 

"Tell  Mrs.  Kemp  there's  a  young  woman  here  who 
would  like  to  see  her.  What  name,  please?"  he  asked, 
abruptly,  turning  to  the  veiled  figure. 

"I  —  I  am  afraid  she  wouldn't  know;  but  you  might 
mention  the  name—  Miss  Mead"  —  this  rather  stutter- 


Very  soon  the  answer  came  back  that  the  house 
keeper  did  not  know  Miss  Mead,  and  hadn't  time  to 
see  strangers. 

"But  I  must  see  her!"  implored  the  excited  voice 
from  behind  the  thick  veil.  "Do  let  me  go  to  the 
house  to  her.  I  will  detain  her  but  a  moment,  I  as 
sure  you.  She  would  be  so  sorry  if  she  missed  seeing 
me." 

.With  no  suspicion  of  the  terrible  catastrophe  that 
was  to  follow  on  the  heels  of  it,  the  man  without 
further  ado  allowed  her  to  pass. 

The  stranger  sped  quickly  up  the  graveled  walk, 
and,  as  Dorothy  had  done  but  a  short  time  before^ 
drew  cautiously  up  to  the  brilliantly  lighted  window, 
threw  back  her  veil,  and  peered  breathlessly  in  upon 
the  gorgeous  scene- 


142  PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY 

As  the  light  fell  athwart  her,  you  and  I,  dear  reader, 
can  easily  recognize  the  marble-white  face  of — Nadine 
Holt. 

"So!"  she  muttered,  between  her  clinched  teeth, 
"1  have  tracked  my  false,  perfidious  lover  to  his  home 
at  last.  When  Harry  Kendal  lighted  the  fire  of  love 
in  rny  heart,  he  little  knew  that  the  blaze  would  in 
time  consume  himself.  I  am  not  one  to  be  made  love 
to  and  cast  off  at  will,  as  he  shall  soon  see. 

"From  the  hour  that  he  eloped  with  Dorothy  Glenn, 
on  that  memorable  Labor  Day,  life  lost  all  its  charms 
for  me,  and  I  vowed  to  Heaven  that  I  would  find 
them,  and  deal  out  vengeance  to  them.  They  crushed 
my  heart,  and  now  I  shall  crush  theirs.  Ah,  how  I 
\vatched  for  him  in  the  crowded  streets,  the  ferries, 
and  on  the  elevated  roads ! 

"I  believed  sooner  or  later  that  I  should  find  him, 
and  I  was  right.  Only  a  week  ago  I  met  him  face 
to  face,  but  he  did  not  know  me  because  of  the  thick 
veil  I  wore.  I  might  have  raised  my  veil  and  he  would 
never  have  recognized  in  the  pinched  and  haggard 
'features  the  countenance  of  Nadine  Holt,  whose 
beauty  he  was  wont  to  praise  so  lavishly.  Aliy  the 
Ctaitor ! 

"He  turned  into  a  florist's  shop,  and  he  never 
dreamed  who  the  woman  was  who  entered  the  place 
and  stood  silently  beside  him  wnile  he  gave  the  order 
for  the  great  decorations  for  the  grand  ball  which  was 
to  take  place  at  his  home  in  Gray  Gables,  in  Yonkers, 
a  fortnight  from  that  date. 

"When  he  quitted  the  shop  I  flew  out  after  him; 
but  all  in  an  instant  he  disappeared  from  my  sight  as 
though  the  ground  had  suddenly  opened  and  swal- 


PRETTY   MADCAP  DOROTHY  143 

lowed  him.  But  I  laughed  aloud.  .What  cared  I 
then.  I  knew  just  where  to  find  him.  The  place  was 
written  indelibly  on  my  brain  in  letters  of  fire — Gray; 
.Gables,  Yonkers! 

"Only  Heaven  knows  how  I  have  worked  to  get 
a  day  off  and  to  earn  extra  money  to  make  this  little 
trip !  And  now  I  am  here  to  face  him.  Is  he  married 
to  Dorothy  Glenn,  I  wonder?  It  would  take  only] 
that  knowledge  to  make  a  fiend  incarnate  of  me!" 

At  that  moment  one  of  the  servants  passing  along 
the  porch  stopped  short  at  sight  of  the  young  woman 
in  black,  with  the  death-white  face  and  flashing  black 
eyes,  peering  into  the  ball-room  from  the  long  porcK 
\vindow. 

"They  are  havi'ng  a  great  time  in  there,"  he  said, 
jerking  his  head  with  a  nod  in  the  direction  of  the 
ball-room. 

"Yes!"  returned  Nadine  Holt,  sharply. 

Then  it  occurred  to  her  that  she  could  find  out 
something  about  the  lover  who  had  deserted  her.  And 
there  was  another  thing  which  puzzled  her  greatly. 
The  name  which  he  had  given  the  florist  was  not  the 
One  by  which  she  had  known  him — she  would  find 
out  all  by  this  man.  Now  he  was  calling  himself  Mr. 
Harry  Kendal — that  was  the  name  he  had  given  the 
florist. 

"In  whose  honor  is  the  ball  given,  my  good  fel 
low?"  she  asked,  with  an  assumption  of  carelessness^ 

For  a  moment  he  looked  stupidly  at  her. 

"I  mean,  who  is  giving  the  ball?"  she  added. 

"Oh,  it's  Mr.  Kendal,  ma'am — feastwls-e,  he  and 
Miss  Dorothy  are  giving  it  together." 

She  started  as  though  a  serpent  had  stung  herg 


144  PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY; 

therj  stood  perfectly  still  and  looked  at  the  man  with1 
gleaming  eyes. 

"Miss  Dorothy — who?"  she  asked,  knowing  full 
well  what  his  answer  must  be.  \ 

"Miss  Dorothy  Glenn,  ma'am,"  he  replied.  "But 
she  won't  be  'miss'  very  long,  for  she  is  soon  to  marry 
Mr.  Kendal."  j 

"Soon  to  marry  him!"  she  repeated,  vaguely,  say 
ing  in  the  next  breath,  "then  they  are  not  already 
married,"  muttering  the  words  more  to  herself  than 
to  the  man.  "Where  does  this  girl,  Dorothy  live?" 
she  asked,  suddenly. 

"That  I  couldn't  say,  ma'am,"  he  replied.  "I  only 
came  to  Gray  Gables  to-day,  to  work.  I  know  only 
the  little  that  I  have  heard  the  servants  say  while  at 
their  work  this  afternoon.  They  say  Miss  Dorothy 
is  very  beautiful." 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

The  white  face  into  which  the  man  gazed  grew  f 
whiter  still,  the  eyes  dilated,  and  her  heart  twinged  1 
with  a  pang  of  jealousy  more  bitter  than  death  to 
endure.  '   JJ 

People  always  made  that  remark  when  speaking  of 
Dorothy.  It  was  that  fatal  gift  which  had  won  her 
lover  from  her,  Nadine  said  to  herself,  and  whicK 
had  wrecked  her  life. 

Oh!  if  she  could  but  destroy  that  pink-and-white 
beauty! 


SfcETTY    MADCAP   DOROTHY  145 

The  thought  was  born  in  Nadine  Holt's  breast  all 
in  an  instant,  and  seemed  to  fire  her  whole  being. 

She  knew  her  lover's  passionate  adoration  of  a 
beautiful  face,  and  then  and  there  the  thought  came 
to  her :  How  long  would  he  love  Dorothy  Glenn  if 
that  pretty  pink-and-white  face  were  seamed  and 
scarred  ? 

'     She  laughed — a  low,  strange,  eerie  laugh  that  quite 
startled  the  man  as  he  walked  away. 

Left  to  herself,  Nadine  Holt  deliberately  opened 
the  hall  door  and  stole  into  the  house.  She  had  but 
one  purpose  in  view,  and  that  was  to  confront  her 
lover  and  Dorothy  before  all  the  invited  guests. 

There  was  nothing  about  the  dark  figure  to  attract 
especial  attention,  and  she  glided  through  the  corridor 
unnoticed. 

Was  it  the  hand  of  fate  most  terrible  that  guided 
her  toward  the  conservatory?  The  dark  figure  glided 
like  a  shadow  toward  the  open  door,  and  then  paused 
abruptly,  for  the  low  sound  of  voices  fell  upon  her 
ear,  and  one  of  them  she  recognized  as  that  of  her 
perfidious  lover. 

Through  the  softened  pearly  gloom  she  saw  him 
sitting  on  the  rustic  bench  close — very  close — to  the 
slender,  girlish  figure  in  fleecy  white,  and  the  sight 
made  the  blood  in  her  veins  turn  to  molten  fire. 

Like  an  evil  spirit  she  crept  toward  them.  She 
would — she  must — know  what  he  was  saying  to  his 
companion  in  that  leafy  bower. 

She  said  to  herself,  of  course  it  was  Dorothy,  and 
that  they  had  stolen  away  from  the  lights  and  the 
music  for  a  few  tender  words  with  each  other,  after 
the  fashion  ot  love-sick  lovers. 


146  PRETTY   MADCAP   POROTHV 

It  had  not  been  so  very  long  ago  since  he  had  been 
talking  with  her  in  just  that  lover-like  way,  only  their 
courtship  had  taken  place  in  the  public  parks,  sitting 
on  the  benches,  or  walking  lovingly  arm  in  arm  along 
the  crowded  thoroughfares;  and  lie  had  brought 
Dorothy  to  his  own  grand  home — Dorothy,  her  hated 
rival ! — to  enjoy  this  paradise  of  a  place,  and  to  make 
love  to  her  in  this  Eden  bower  of  roses  and  scented, 
murmuring,  tinkling  fountains. 

"Dorothy!"  he  murmured  in  his  rich,  low,  musical 
voice.  How  plainly  she  heard  the  name!  The  rest 
of  the  sentence  she  could  not  catch,  though  she  crept 
nearer  and  nearer,  and  strained  every  nerve  to  listen. 
"I  love  you  as  I  have  never  loved  anything  in  this 
life  before,"  she  heard  him  say,  "and  my  future  with 
out  you  would  be  unendurable.  I  can  not  endure  it— 
I  will  not!" 

The  poor  wretch  who  listened  grew  mad  as  she 
heard  the  tender  words  whispered  into  the  ears  of 
another  by  her  false  lover. 

She  crouched  still  lower,  and  her  hand,  as  she 
threw  it  out  wildly,  came  in  contact  with  something 
hard  and  cold.  It  was  a  long,  thin,  sharp-bladed  knife 
•$rhich  the  gardener  had  been  using  only  that  day  tt> 
Trim  the  bushes,  and  which,  in  his  hurry,  he  had 
Carelessly  forgotten.  She  realized  instantly  what  if 
was,  and,  with  the  thought,  a  diabolical  idea  crept  in 
to  her  brain. 

rt\Vhy  should  Dorothy  Glenn  live  to  enjoy  the 
smiles  of  the  man  whose  love  she  has  robbed  me  of," 
s¥e  muttered  below  her  breath,  "while  my  heart 
hungers  and  my  soul  quivers  in  endless  torture  for  the 


PRETTY   MADCAP  DOROTHY 

affection  that  is  denied  me?  I  can  endure  it  no 
longer !"  j 

The  mad  desire  to  spoil  the  fair  beauty  of  her  nival 
overpowered  her  until  the  thought  possessed  her  and 
rendered  her  almost  a  fiend  incarnate. 

Grasping  the  long-,  sharp-bladed  knife. tightly,  Na- 
dine  Holt  raised  her  right  arm  slowly,  cautiously. 
Not  so  much  as  a  leaf  rustled  to  warn  the  two  sitting 
on  the  rustic  bench  of  the  terrible  danger  that  hung 
over  them. 

Harry  Kendal's  low,  musical  voice  sank  to  a  lower, 
cadence.  He  drew  the  slender  figure  of  the  girl  nearer 
and  that  action  was  fatal. 

There  was  a  quick,  whizzing  sound,  followed  by 
an  awful  cry  of  terror  from  Iris,  and  Kendal's  hand, 
resting  lightly  about  her  waist,  was  deluged  in  blood. 

"Murder!  murder!  Oh,  heavens!"  shrieked  Iris, 
and  she  fell  at  his  feet  in  a  swoon. 

In  the  commotion  Nadine  Holt  turned  like  a  panthV 
eress  and  made  her  escape  from  the  conservatory  and 
from  the  house. 

"Murder!  murder!"  Those  terrible  cries  that  rent 
the  air  were  the  first  sounds  that  Dorothy  heard  as 
her  benumbed  brain  gained  consciousness.  And  as 
she  staggered,  benumbed  and  dazed,  to  her  feet  she 
almost  fell  over  a  slimy  knife  lying  there,  and  at  that 
instant  a  strong  hand  flung  back  the  rose-vines  and 
Harry  Kendal,  white  and  quiv-ering  with  wrath,  com 
fronted  her. 

"Dorothy  Glenn!"  he  cried,  in  a  horrible  VOICQ 
fairly  reverberating  with  intense  emotion,  "You!  Ote, 
you  cruel,  wicked  girl!  You — you  fiend!  to  do  what 
you  have  done!"  and  reaching  out  his  hand  he  flung 


148  PRETTY    MADCAP   DOROTHY 

her  backward  from  him  as  though  she  were  a  scorpion 
whose  very  touch  was  contamination.  "Fly  up  to 
your  own  room,"  he  cried,  hoarsely,  "and  do  not  leave 
it  for  a  moment  until  I  come  to  you  there!  Have 
nothing-  to  say;  refuse  to  speak  to  any  one!"  and 
catching  her  fiercely  by  the  shoulder,  he  fairly  dragged 
her  through  the  conservatory  toward  the  rear  door, 
which  communicated  with  a  back  stairway  that  led 
up  to  her  room. 

Faint  and  dazed,  Dorothy  had  not  offered  the  least 
resistance  to  this  cruel  treatment.  Her  brain  seemed 
stupefied  by  the  whirling,  confusing  events  taking 
place  so  rapidly  around  her.  She  only  realized  two 
things :  that  she  had  betrayed  her  presence  in  the 
conservatory  when  she  fell  to  the  floor  upon  hearing 
her  lover  speak  words  of  affection  to  her  rival,  and 
that  Harry  was  bitterly  angry  with  her  for  being 
there.  She  did  not  remember  that  she  had  lost  con 
sciousness.  It  seemed  to  her  that  as  her  senses  were 
about  leaving  her  strange  cries  recalled  them. 

It  occurred  to  her  that  in  his  excitement  and  anger 
her  lover  had  not  noticed  that  she  had  regained  her 
sight. 

Wearily  Dorothy  ascended  the  steep,  narrow  stair 
way  and  entered  her  own  room.  A  soft,  low,  dim 
light  flooded  the  apartment,  upon  which  she  had  not 
gazed  for  many  and  many  a  long  day. 

Katy  was  not  there,  and  she  flung  herself  into  the 
nearest  arm-chair,  sobbing  wretchedly,  although  on. 
that  night  she  had  cause  to  cry  out  to  Heaven  and 
rejoice  for  God's  mercy  to  her  for  so  unexpectedly 
restoring  her  sight.  But,  ah,  me!  how  strange  i't  is 
that  all  the  blessings  Heaven  can  shower  upon  ns 


PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY  149 

seem  as  dross  when  the  one  love  we  crave  proves 
fickle. 

Dorothy  did  not  have  the  heart  to  cry  out  joyfully 
and  thankfully.  Her  head  drooped  on  her  breast  with 
a  low,  quivering  sigh,  and  her  hands  fell  in  her  lap. 

Suddenly  something  around  the  bottom  of  her  dress 
caught  her  eye,  and  she  started  to  her  feet  with  a  low 
cry. 

"It  is  blood !"  she  cried  out  in  an  awful  voice. 

No  sooner  had  the  door  closed  behind  Dorothy  ere 
Kendal  flew  back  to  Iris'  side. 

No  ore  had  heard  the  terrible  cries.  He  thanked 
Heaven  for  that.  The  music  had  drowned  them. 

He  had  quite  believed  that  Iris  was  dying.  A  hasty 
examination  showed  him  that  it  was  only  a  slight 
•wound  on  the  shoulder,  from  which  blood  was  flowing 
profusely. 

"Thank  God  it  is  no  worse!"  he  cried,  breathing 
freely. 

He  quickly  set  about  restoring  Iris,  and  in  a  mo 
ment  she  opened  her  eyes. 

"Murder!  murder!"  she  would  have  cried  again, 
but  he  put  his  hand  instantly  over  her  red  lips. 

"Hush!  hush!  in  Heaven's  name!"  he  cried.  "You 
will  alarm  the  whole  household.  You"  are  not  ser 
iously  hurt !" 

"Some  one  was  trying  to  murder  me!"  shrieked 
Iris,  hysterically. 

"No,  no!"  he  returned,  quickly.  "Listen,  Iris,  for 
Heaven's  sake !  One  of  the  panes  of  glass  of  the  con 
servatory  directly  overhead  was  broken,  and — and  a 
little  part  of  it  fell  in,  grazing  your  shoulder.  It  is 


150  PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY 

a  deep  and  painful  scratch,  I  can  well  understand; 
but  it  is  only  a  scratch,  I  can  assure  you." 

"Oh,  it  has  ruined  my  dress!"  cried  the  girl,  in 
anger  and  dismay,  never  thinking  for  an  instant  of 
doubting  the  truth  of  his  assertion.  "I  can  not  ap 
pear  in  the  ball-room  again.  No  one  must  know  that 
we  were  here  together,"  she  went  on,  hastily — "not 
one  human  soul!  You  must  give  out  that  I — I  be 
came  suddenly  indisposed  and  went  to  my  own  room." 

"Yes,  I  think  your  suggestions  are  best,"  he  agreed. 

The  guests  received  this  explanation  of  the  sudden 
absence  of  the  beauty  of  the  ball  with  regret,  and 
more  than  one  whisper  went  the  rounds  of  the  room 
how  this  seemed  to  disturb  handsome  Harry  Kendal, 
v'for  his  face  was  very  pale,  and  he  seemed  so  nervous. 

At  the  earliest  opportunity  Harry  Kendal  slipped 
away  from  the  merry  throng  and  up  to  Dorothy's 
apai  tment,  hastily  knocking  at  the  door. 

Ske  opened  it  herself. 

"Step  out  into  the  corridor,"  he  said,  sternly;  "I 
want  to  speak  to  you." 

And  trembling  with  apprehension  caused  by  his 
stern  manner,  Dorothy  obeyed. 

She  could  see,  even  in  the  dim  light,  that  his  face 
was  white  as  death. 

"I  have  come  to  have  an  understanding  with  you, 
Dorothy  Glenn!"  he  cried  hoarsely.  "Your  dastardly 
action  of  to-night  has  forever  placed  a  barrier  be 
tween  you  and  me!  I  am  here  to  say  this  to  you: 
here  and  now  I  sever  our  betrothal !  The  same  roof 
shall  no  longer  shelter  us  both!  Either  you  leave 
this  house  to-night,  or  I'll  go  I" 


PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY  15 1 

CHAPTER  XXII. 

It  was  the  most  pitiful  scene  that  pen  could  de 
scribe.  The  beautiful  young  girl,  in  her  dress  of 
fleecy  white,  with  the  faded  purple  blossoms  on  her 
breast  entwined  among  the  meshes  of  her  disheveled 
golden  hair,  crouching  back  among  the  green  leaves, 
and  the  white-faced,  handsome,  angry  man  clutching 
her  white  arm,  crying  out  hoarsely  that  never  again 
should  they  both  breathe  the  same  air  beneath  that 
roof — that  she  must  leave  Gray  Gables  within  the 
hour,  or  he  would. 

"I  did  not  know  that  I  had  done  so  terribly  wrong," 
moaned  the  girl,  shrinking  back  from  those  angry, 
fiery  eyes  that  glowered  down  so  fiercely  into  her  own. 

A  laugh  that  was  more  horrible  than  the  wildest 
imprecation  cculd  have  been  broke  from  his  lips. 

"You  seem  to  have  a  remarkably  mixed  idea  of 
right  and  wrong,"  he  retorted,  sternly,  relaxing-  his 
hold  and  standing  before  her  with  rigid,  folded  arms, 
his  anger  growing  more  intense  with  each  passing  in 
stant  as  he  looked  down  into  the  girl's  agonized  face. 

Had  she  done  so  very,  very  wrong  in  remaining  in 
the  conservatory,  and  in  listening  to  her  betrothed 
make  love  to  her  rival  ?  she  wondered  vaguely. 

Surely,  she  should  have  been  the  one  to  have  cried 
out  in  bitter  anger,  not  he. 

"Let  me  tell  you  how  it  all  came  about,"  she  gasped, 
faintly. 

"I — I  was  in  the  ball-room  with  Katy,  when  it  grew! 
so  warm  that  I  sent  for  an  ice.  She  did  not  return 
as  soon  as  I  had  expected  her,  and — and  I  groped  my 


152  PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY 

way  out  into  the  garden  to  await  her  there.  But  as 
I  stepped  from  the  porch  a  wonderful  thing  happened, 
Harry.  I — I  missed  my  footing  and  fell  headlong 
down  the  steps  to  the  graveled  walk  below,  and  the 
shock  restored  my  sight.  Oh!  look  at  me,  Harry!" 
she  exclaimed,  with  quivering  intensity,  holding  out 
her  white  arms  toward  him.  "I  can  see  now.  I  can 
see  your  idolized  face,  oh,  my  beloved !  I — I  came 
here  to  tell  you  this — to  tell  you  the  wonderful  tidings ! 
I  intended  to  send  to  the  ball-room  for  you,  but  be 
fore  I  could  put  my  intention  into  execution  I — I 
heard  steps  approaching,  and  drew  back  among  the 
screening  leaves  till  they  should  pass.  You  came  in 
with  Iris  Vincent,  and  I  heard  what  you  said,  and  rny 
brain  whirled — I  grew  dazed.  You- — you  know  the 
rest!" 

He  was  not  overwhelmed  by  the  great  tidings  that 
she  had  regained  her  sight,  as  she  had  expected  he 
would  be.  Instead,  he  retorted  brusquely: 

"It  was  a  pity  that  your  sight  returned  to  you  to 
enable  you  to  do  so  dastardly  a  deed;  and  I  am  be 
ginning-  to  have  my  doubts  whether  or  not  you  have 
not  been  duping  us  all  along,  and,  under  that  guise, 
spying  upon  us — which  seems  to  be  your  forte.    This  J* 
revelation  makes  me  angrier  than  ever,"  he  went  on,  | 
"for  it  leaves  you  with  no  possible  hope  of  pardon. 
for  your  atrocious  conduct,  which  merits  the  whole 
world's  scorn  and  contempt!" 

"I  see  it  all!"  cried  Dorothy,  springing  to  her  feet 
and  facing  him.  "You  have  prearranged  this  quarrel 
with  me  to  break  our  betrothal,  that  you  might  wed 
your  new  love — Iris  Vincent.  But,  just  for  pure 
spite,  I  will  not  release  you — never!  I  will  tell  the 


PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY  153 

.whole  world  of  your  duplicity.  An  engagement  is  a 
solemn  thing.  It  takes  two  to  enter  into  it  and  two 
to  break  it." 

The  scorn  on  his  handsome  face  deepened. 

"I  do  not  very  well  see  how  you  can  marry  a  man 
when  he  makes  up  his  mind  not  to  have  you,"  he  de 
clared.  "That  is  a  difficult  feat,  and  I  shall  have  to 
see  it  done  before  I  can  be  convinced  that  it  can  be 
accomplished,"  he  replied,  icily,  adding:  "There  are 
many  women  in  this  world  who  would  stand  back  and 
watch  such  a  proceeding  with  the  wildest  anxiety,  I 
imagine ;"  this  sneeringly. 

"You  shall  never  marry  Iris  Vincent!"  Dorothy 
panted.  "I — I  would  prevent  it  at  any  cost  Once 
before  you  forsook  me  when  I  needed  you  most ;  you 
left  me  to  die  when  I  fell  from  the  steamer  down  into 
the  dark  water,  when  we  were  returning  from  Staten 
Island,  that  never-to-be-forgotten  night;  so  why 
should  I  be  surprised  at  your  willingness  to  desert  me 
now?" 

He  turned  on  his  heel, 

"It  is  now  two  o'clock  in  the  morning,"  he  said. 
"My  duty  requires  me  to  go  down  to  the  ball-room 
and  bid  the  guests  adieu  as  they  take  their  departure, 
and  when  that  is  over  I  shall  leave  this  house  until 
this  difficulty  has  been  settled.  The  reading  of  Doc 
tor  Bryan's  will  is  to  take  place  at  noon.  I  shall  be 
present  then,  and  after  that — well — well,  we  shall  see 
what  will  take  place." 

With  these  words  Kendal  quitted  the  room,  and 
left  Dorothy  standing  there  with  the  tears  falling: 
like  rain  down  her  chee&s — surely  the  most  piteous 
object  in  the  whole  wide  world 


"154  PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY 

L  * 

I  [When  Kendal  found  himself  alone  his  intense  an- 
ger  against  Dorothy  began  to  cool  a  little. 

"It  is  true  she  attempted  to  do  a  horrible  deed," 
he  muttered;  "but  I  must  not  forget  that  love  for 
me  prompted  her  to  it,  and  show  her  some  mercy." 

After  all  the  guests  had  taken  their  departure,  and 
the  house  had  settled  down  into  the  darkness  and 
quiet  of  the  waning  night,  Kendal  paced  his  room 
in  a  greatly  perturbed  state  of  mind,  thinking  the 
matter  over. 

He  was  terribly  in  love  with  Ids,  he  admitted  to 
himself;  but  he  had  done  wrong,  fearfully  wrong,  in 
breaking  off  his  engagement  with  Dorothy  untft  after, 
the  reading  of  the  will  Iris  was  beautiful,  bewitch 
ing — his  idea  oi  all  that  a  prcud,  imperious,  willful 
sweetheart  should  be — but  Dorothy  would  have  what 
\vas  much  better  than  all  this,  the  golden  shekels ;  and 
then,  too,  now  that  the  girl  was  i?o  longer  blind,  she 
would  have  plenty  of  admirers;  and  he  could  have 
cursed  himself  for  those  hasty  words,  that  no  longer, 
should  she  live  under  the  same  roof  with  himself. 

It  was  daylight  when  he  threw  himself  down  on 
the  bed,  fairly  worn  out;  and  his  head  no  sooner 
touched  the  pillow  than  he  fell  into  a  deep  sleep,  and 
it  was*  almost  noon  ere  he  opened  his  eyes  agairv, 
and  then  it  was  the  slow,  measured  chime  of  the  clock 
as  it  struck  the  half  hour  which  awakened  him. 

"Great  Heaven!  half  past  eleven!"  he  ejaculated, 
springing  from  the  couch.  "I  shall  barely  have  time 
to  get  downstairs  to  be  present  at  the  reading  of  the 
will.  I  must  make  all  haste;  but  first  of  all  I  mast 
ifind  out  how  Iris  is,  and  if  her  shoulder  pains  hen 


PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY  153 

He  rang  the  bell  hastily,  and  to  the  servant  who 
answered  the  summons  he  gave  his  verbal  message  to 
Miss  Vincent.  But  in  a  very  short  time  the  man  re 
turned,  placing  a  letter  in  his  hand. 

Kendal  was  mystified,  for  he  saw  that  it  was  Iris' 
delicate  chirography.  He  tore  open  the  envelope  with1 
the  fever  of  impatience,  and  as  his  eye  fell  upon  the 
delicately  written  lines  his  handsome  face  turned 
white  as  marble. 

"My  DEAR  HARRY/'  it  commenced,  "you  will  feel 
greatly  surprised  at  the  contents  of  this  letter.  I 
think  it  best  to  break  into  the  subject  at  once,  and  to 
tell  you  the  plain  truth  of  just  what  has  happened. 

"Shortly  after  I  left  you  and  retired  to  my  own 
8$£rtments  the  pain  in  my  shoulder  became  so  in 
tense  that,  remembering  there  was  a  young  surgeon 
among  the  invited  guests,  I  sent  for  him  at  once.  I 
can  never  tell  you  just  exactly  how  it  came  about,  but 
the  upshot  of  the  whole  matter  was  that  he  asked  me 
to  marry  him. 

"I  wanted  time  to  consider  it;  but  he  said  it  must 
be  then  and  there,  within  the  hour,  or  never.  I  de 
murred,  but  he  was  resolute. 

"I  realized  that  I  held  my  future  in  my  own  hands, 
and  that  I  had  toj:lecide  upon  my  own  destiny  at  once. 

"He  is  a  millionaire's  son,  and  you  are  only  a  poor, 
struggling  physician.  Can  you  wonder  that  it  could 
terminate  only  in  one  way? 

"I  accepted  him,  and  by  the  time  that  you  are  read 
ing  this  we  shall  be  married  and  far  away.  So  good 
bye,  Harry  Try  and  forgive  me,  if  you  can. 

"iRis." 


'  156  PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY 

•With  a  horrible  imprecation,  Keridal  tore  the  note 
into  a  thousand  fragments,  hurled  them  upon  the 
floor,  and  ground  his  heel  into  them. 

"False!"  he  cried.  "I  might  have  known  it.  It  i^ 
always  these  beautiful  women  who  are  so  heartless,, 
They  draw  men  on  with  their  smiles  and  their  be- 
\vitching  fascinations,  only  to  throw  them  over  when 
a  more  eligible  parti  appears  upon  the  scene." 

Deeply  as  he  had  been  smitten  with  her  charms,  her 
action  caused  an  instantaneous  revulsion  of  feeling. 

"  'What  care  I  how  fair  she  be,  if  she  be  not  fab 
to  me?'"  he  cried  out,  bitterly,  to  himself.  "What 
a  fool  I  was,  to  be  duped  by  her  so  long!  The  iron 
has  entered  deep  into  my  soul,  but  she  shall  see  that 
she  can  not  quite  crush  me.  I  will  live  to  be  revenged 
upon  Iris  Vincent  if  it  costs  me  my  life !  If  Dorothy 
inherits  the  million,  I  will  marry  her  before  the  sun 
sets  to-night.  I  only  wish  that  I  had  known  the  way 
that  affairs  were  shaping  themselves.  I — I  should  not 
have  treated  Dorothy  so  harshly." 

It  seemed  as  though  all  in  an  instant  his  heart  went 
back  to  her  in  the  rebound. 

He  rushed  hurriedly  down  into  the  dining-room, 
there  to  be  met  by  Mrs,  Kemp,  who  advanced  toward 
him  with  a  white,  startled  face. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Kendal,"  she  gasped,  breathlessly,  "you 
can  never  in  the  world  guess  what  has  happened!''* 

"I  rather  think  I  can,"  retorted  the  young  man, 
harshly '  "your  niece,  Miss  Vincent,  has  eloped  with 
the  millionaire's  son  across  the  way." 

"That — that  is  not  what  I  had  reference  to,"  said 
Mrs.  Kemp,  with  a  sob.  "I — I  admit  that  Iris  has 


PRETTY    MADCAP    DOROTHY  IS?, 

eloped,  but  it  is  not  she  whom  I  meant,  but  Dorothy." 
"What  of  her?"  cried  Kendal,  sharply,  little  dream 
ing  the  truth. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 


For  an  instant  Kendal  looked  at  the  housekeeper  in 
amazement. 

"What  of  Dorothy?"  he  repeated,  breathlessly. 

"She  has  disappeared  too!"  returned  the  house 
keeper,  faintly,  adding:  "She  did  not  go  with  Iris,  as 
you  may  imagine." 

"No?"  he  echoed,  faintly,  inquiringly. 

"No,"  she  responded;  "she  went  alone.  She  said 
to  Katy,  last  night,  'If  you  wake  up  on  the  morrow, 
and  do  not  find  me  here,  do  'not  weep.  I  shall  be 
where  I  will  be  better  off.  No  one  will  miss  me — • 
no  one  will  know  or  care  whither  I  have  gone/  Katy 
thought  them  idle  words,  and  paid  little  heed  to  them ; 
but  this  morning,  when  she  awoke  and  found  that 
Dorothy  was  not  in  her  room,  in  the  greatest  of 
alarm  she  came  to  me  and  told  me  what  had  occurred. 
At  that  .moment  I  was  just  smarting  under  the  blow 
of  Iris'  elopement,  and  words  fail  to  describe  my  feel 
ings  at  this  second  and  most  terrible  catastrophe,  for 
I  realized  how  it  would  affect  you,  my  poor  boy." 

Kendal  had  sunk  down  into  the  nearest  chair,  white 
as  death,  and  trembling  like  an  aspen-leaf. 

He  could  hardly  grasp  the  meaning  of  her  words. 
"Dorothy  gone — Iris  fled  with  another!"  His  tips 
twitched  convulsively,  but  he  uttered  no  sound 


j    158  PRETTY  MADCAP  DOROTHY 

"I  made  diligent  search  for  Iris  and  Dorothy,11 
Mrs.  Kemp  went  on,  tearfully.  "I  found  my  niece 
had  been  married  at  the  rectory,  and  had  taken  the 
first  train  to  the  city  with  her  newly  made  husband; 
they  intend  starting  on  the  steamer  which  leaves  New,  § 
lYork  for  Europe  to-day.  So,  of  course,  there  was ! 
nothing  to  be  done  in  Iris*  case,  so  I  turned  my  at 
tention  to  Dorothy.  But,  as  I  remarked  before,  it 
Svas  useless.  I  think  she  must  have  gone  to  New 
lYork  City,  and  if  she  has,  trying  to  find  her  will 
be  like  hunting  for  a  needle  in  a  hay-stack.  I  was 
shocked  that  she  should  have  left  to-day,  because  she 
jvell  knew  that  this  was  the  day  on  which  the  will 
Kas  to  be  read,  and  that  concerns  her  so  vitally.  Ah! 
here  is  the  lawyer  now,"  and  before  Kendal  could 
iframe  a  reply  the  gentleman  was  ushered  into  the 
old-fashioned  library.  / 

r  He  greeted  both  Mrs.  Kemp  and  the  young  man 
gravely,  and  they  knew  by  his  demeanor  that  he  had 
heard  what  occurred.  ' 

His  very  first  words  assured  them  of  that  fact,  and 
lie  went  on  to  say  that  Dorothy's  disappearance,  how* 
ever,  would  make  no  difference  in  the  reading  of 
Doctor  Bryan's  will,  which  was  set  for  that  day  aa(t 
hour. 

"As  my  time  is  rather  limited,"  he  continued,  "you 
•will,  I  trust,  pardon  me  if  I  proceed  to  business  at 
once." 

He  looked  sharply  from  one  to  the  other,  and,  as 
they  both  bowed  assent,  he  opened  the  satchel  he  had 
brought  with  him,  and  proceeded  to  take  out  the 
'document  which  meant  so  much  to  Kendal,  unfolded 


PRETTY    MADCAP    DOROTHY  159, 

it  with  great  precision,  and  in  his  high,  metallic  voice 
he  read  it  through  slowly  and  impressively.  j 

Kendal  had  quite  imagined  that  the  old  doctor 
would  leave  him  a  goodly  share  of  his  vast  estate — * 
perhaps  something  like  a  hundred  thousand  or  so — • 
indeed,  he  would  not  have  been  surprised  to  have 
learned  that  the  doctor  had  left  him  a  quarter  of  a 
million  dollars. 

To  his  unspeakable  horror  he  found  that  he  had 
been  cut  off  without  a  dollar;  all  had  been  left  to 
Dorothy,  without  reserve  or  condition,  save  one,  and 
that  condition  was  a  most  important  one:  that  she 
should  marry  Kendal  six  months  after  his  decease,  on 
relinquish  the  fortune  bequeathed  to  her. 
'-  "I  may  as  well  explain  to  you  my  old  friend's  idea 
in  making  this  will,"  said  the  lawyer,  turning  to  the! 
young  man.  "He  wished  Miss  Glenn  to  marry  you, ' 
and  thought  this  the  most  expedient  and  effectual  way; 
of  bringing  about  the  marriage  of  two  young  people 
whose  interests  he  had  so  deeply  at  heart.  Had  he 
lived  long  enough  to  have  made  a  new  will,  I  am  sure 
it  would  have  been  entirely  different." 

But  not  one  word  of  all  this  did  Harry  Kendal 
hear.  His  brain  was  on  fire.  He  only  realized  one 
thing — that  he  was  a  beggar  on  the  face  of  God's 
earth ;  and,  to  make  matters  worse,  he  had  by  his  own  ' 
rash  act  driven  Dorothy  from  beneath  that  roof, 
thereby  cutting  off  his  own  chance  of  marrying  her 
and  being  master  of  Gray  Gables. 

He  clinched  his  hand  and  ground  his  handsome 
white  teeth  together  in  terrible  rage. 

There  was  but  one  thing  to  do,  and  that  was  to  find 
(Dorothy  ere  the  fortnight  waned,  and  marry  her  at 


.   160  PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY 

once — that  is,  if  he  could  ever  persuade  her  to  for 
give  him. 

He  had  parted  from  her  in  bitter  anger,  and  said 
words  to  her  that  women  never  forgive  when  uttered 
by  those  whom  they  love.  The  worst  part  of  the 
whole  affair  was,  their  quarrel  had  been  ovef  another 
girl. 

"No  steps  will  be  taken  until  the  fortnight  has 
elapsed,"  said  the  lawyer  in  his  metallic  voice;  "and 
£t  the  expiration  of  that  time,  if  we  do  not  congratu 
late  you,  Mr.  Kendal,  upon  your  marriage  to  Miss 
Dorothy,  we  shall  have  to  make  great  changes  at  Gray 
Gables.  Allow  me  to  wish  you  both  a  very  good- 
morning." 

With  these  brief  words  the  brisk  little  lawyer  took 
a  hasty  departure. 

Mrs.  Kemp  and  Kendal  stood  looking  at  each  other 
long  after  his  departure  with  faces  pale  as  death. 

It  was  the  housekeeper  who  broke  the  silence. 

"I  am  sorry  for  you,  Mr.  Kendal,"  she  said.  "It 
is  a  terrible  thing  to  have  one's  hopes  dashed  after 
that  fashion — and  when  one  doesn't  deserve  it,  either.  > 
You  were  always  so  good  and  faithful  and  true  to 
Dorothy,  sir;  even  keeping  your  promise  with  her 
through  the  most  terrible  affliction  that  ever  could 
have  befallen  her — that  of  blindness.  It  is  dreadful 
to  think  that  the  moment  she  regained  her  sight,  and 
believing  herself  to  be  the  possessor  of  a  great  for 
tune,  that  she  should  show  every  one  so  plainly  that 
she  thought  you  were  not  good  enough  for  her  to 
marry  by  running  away  from  you,  Mr.  Kendal !" 

Every  word  she  so  innocently  uttered  cut  him  like 
a  sharp  sword. 


PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY  161! 

"Not  good  enough  for  her?"  he  echoed,  crushing 
back  the  imprecation  that  sprang  to  his  lips.  His 
blood  boiled  at  the  construction  which  she  put  upon 
the  matter.  It  was  a  terrible  blow  to  his  pride,  yet 
he  dared  not  utter  the  truth  until  he  should  know; 
ivhether  or  not  he  should  be  able  to  find  Dorothy  and 
marry  her  within  the  allotted  fortnight. 

Without  a  word  Kendal  turned  on  his  heel  and 
quitted  the  room,  slamming  the  door  after  him  witli 
a  decided  bang. 

Before  the  sun  set  that  night  he  was  in  New  York 
City  again  and  searching  for  Dorothy. 

It  meant  a  fortune  for  him.  He  must  find  her. 
He  dared  not  think  of  what  failure  would  mean  to 
him — of  the  ruin  that  would  stare  him  in  the  face. 

The  idea  suggested  itself  to  him  that  in  all  prob 
ability  Dorothy  would  seek  out  her  old  companions 
of  the  book-bindery.  He  felt  that  it  would  be  rather 
daring  to  go  there,  where  he  would  meet  Nadine  Holt, 
after  his  so  abrupt  desertion  of  her;  but  his  anxiety 
over  Dorothy  overcame  all  scruples,  and  late  that 
afternoon  the  girls  of  the  Hollingsworth  book-bindery 
were  astonished  at  the  door  being  flung  suddenly  open 
and  seeing  the  handsome  young  man  whom  they  had 
known  as  the  street-car  conductor  and  Nadine  Holt's 
lover  standing  on  the  threshold. 

His  eyes  ran  rapidly  over  the  scores  of  girls  at 
their  tables,  resting  at  length  upon  a  fair,  pale  thought 
ful  young  girl  standing  nearest  him.  He  remembered 
having  often  seen  her  with  Dorothy.  He  recollected, 
too,  that  her  name  was  Nannie  Switzer.  He  stepped 
tip  to  her  and  raised  his  hat  with  that  courteous  bow 
C&at  was  always  so  fascinating  to  young  girls. 


162  "PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  said,  "but,  finding  myself 
in  your  vicinity,  I  dropped  in  to  look  up  my  old  friend. 
I  refer  to  the  young  girl  with  whom  I  used  to  see 
you  so  much—  Dorothy  Glenn." 

To  his  utmost  surprise,  the  young  girl  burst  into 
a  flood  of  tears. 

"Oh,  sir,  you  can  net  tel!  how  your  words  affect 
me!"  she  sobbed. 

"Why?"  he  asked,  surprisedly. 

The  girl  hung  her  pretty  head,  and  her  blue  eyes 
sought  the  floor  in  the  greatest  embarrassment. 

"Will  you  tell  me  why?"  he  repeated,  earnestly. 
wlt  is  my  right  to  know,  is  it  not,  Miss  Nannie?" 

"Well,  you  see,  sir,"  she  stammered,  confusedly, 
"we  have  not  seen  or  heard  anything  from  Dorothy 
Glenn  since  Labor  Day  and  every  one  hereabouts 
thought  that  —  that  you  knew  where  she  was." 

He  flushed  a  dark  crimson  and  gave  a  guilty  start. 

"I  am  so  glad  to  know  that  our  suspicions  were 
groundless,"  she  breathed,  thankfully;  adding:  "H 
am  indeed  sorry  that  I  can  not  tell  you  where  Doro 
thy  is;  we  would  all  give  the  world  to  know/  1  assure 
you." 

He  could  not  help  asking  next,  in  a  low,  husky 


"What  of  Nadine  Holt?    Where  is  she?" 

Again  the  girl's  face  clouded. 

"She  has  worked  right  along  here  with  us  up  to  at 
week  ago,"  she  answered,  "and  then  Nadine  went 
away  suddenly,  without  saying  so  much  as  good-bye 
to  any  of  us."  She  could  not  help  but  add  :  ".She  has 
changed  so  greatly  that  you  would  never  know  her. 
She  is  nr  W*e.r  *&*  4ark-eyed  beauty  whom  yon  re- 


PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY  163 

member;  she  looks  ten  years  older.  She  never  smiles 
|  now,  and  there  is  a  horrible  look  in  her  eyes — like  the 
cunning  gleam  one  sees  in  the  eyes  of  the  insane ;  and, 
oh!  sir,  let  me  warn  you — you,  of  all  men — for  the 
love  of  Heaven,  do  not  cross  her  path!  Remember, 
I — I  warn  you." 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 


•Harry  Kendal  threw  back  his  dark,  handsome  head 
swith  a  gesture  of  disdain  and  looked  at  the  girl. 

"I  do  not  know  of  any  reason  why  you  should 
.warn  me,  above  all  other  men,  that  it  is  dangerous  to 
cross  Miss  Holt's  path,"  he  said.  "Almost  any  young 
man  will  flirt  with  a  pretty  girl  when  he  finds  her  so 
very  willing.  She  understood  that  it  was  only  a  flir 
tation  ;  but  when  I  met  your  little  friend  Dorothy,  of 
course  all  that  nonsense  with  Nadine  ceased." 
i  "Nadine  did  not  call  it  a  flirtation,"  returned  the 
girl,  gravely.  "You  might  call  it  that.  She  thought 
of  it  differently,  I  am  sure." 

"Where  is  Jessie  Staples?"  he  asked,  abruptly,  to 
change  the  embarrassing  subject. 

"She,  too,  has  left  the  bindery,"  was  the  unex 
pected  reply.  "There  have  been  great  changes  among 
the  people  in  this  book-bindery  within  the  last  few 
months.  A  young  man  connected  with  the  place  had 
quite  a  sum  of  money  left  him,  and  Jessie  Staples 
,was  a  great  favorite  with  this  young  man's  mother,  so 
at  their  invitation  Jessie  went  to  live  with  them.'9 


J64  PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY 

Finding  that  she  had  nothing  more  to  tell  hint, 
Kendal  soon  after  took  his  departure. 

He  was  desperate  as  he  walked  along  the  street. 

"What  in  the  name  of  Heaven  shall  I  do?"  he  cned. 
""One  day  of  the  fortnight  has  already  passed,  and  I 
have  not  even  the  slightest  clew  to  Dorothy's  where 
abouts."  And  in  that  hour  in  which  he  realized  that 
she  was  indeed  lost  to  him  he  knew  how  well  he 
actually  loved  the  girl.  Iris'  fickleness  had  kilted  his 
mad  infatuation  at  one  blow,  and,  man-like,  his  heart 
returned  at  once  to  its  old  allegiance. 

Now  that  he  knew  that  it  was  only  a  question  of 
the  merest  chance  of  ever  finding  Dorothy,  his  very 
soul  seemed  to  grow  wild  with  anxiety. 

Suddenly  a  thought  born  of  desperation  occurred  to 
him — why  not  consult  a  fortune-teller  as  a  last  resort  ? 
It  just  flashed  across  his  brain,  an  advertisement  he 
had  read  and  laughed  over  in  one  of  the  New  York 
papers  a  few  days  before : 

"Madame  ,  seventh  daughter  of  the  seventh' 

daughter,  reveals  to  those  who  wish  to  'consult  her 
all  the  main  incidents  of  their  past,  present,  and 
future  lifej  brings  together  the  hearts  of  those  wh<? 
are  suffering  from  the  pangs  of  lovers'  quarrels, 
though  the  whole  wide  earth  should  separate  them; 
indicates  the  whereabouts  of  missing  ones,  though 
they  should  be  hidden  as  deeply  and  securely  from 
sight  as  the  bowels  of  the  earth.  The  madame  can 
with  ease  secure  for  you  the  love  of  any  person  whom 
you  may  choose  to  win.  put  each  and  every  person  in 
the  way  of  making  fabulous  fortunes  in  the  shortest 
possible  space  of  time,  and  all  this  for  the  small  sum 
1 1/  fifty  cents.  Madame  can  be  found,  between  the 


PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY  165 

hours  of  nine  and  twelve  in  the  forenoon,  one  and 
six  in  the  afternoon,  and  from  seven  until  eleven  in 
the  evening,  by  those  who  wish  to  consult  her  mar 
velous  powers,  on  the  fourth  floor  of  the  last  tene 
ment  house  on  Hester  Street.  Visitors  will  please 
take  note  that  Madame's  consultation  studio  is  in  the 
Tear  of  the  building.  A  candle  lights  the  way." 

By  dint  of  much  perseverance  Kendal  found  the 
place. 

Taking  the  candle,  he  groped  his  way  through  the 
long,  narrow,  grimy  passage,  and  found  himself  at 
length  standing  before  Room  106,  as  the  advertise 
ment  had  indicated. 

His  loud,  impatient  knock  was  answered,  after  some 
little  delay,  by  a  tall  figure  hooded  and  cloaked,  the 
face  almost  concealed  by  a  long,  thick  veil  that  was 
thrown  about  the  head,  and  which  reached  almost  to 
the  feet. 

In  a  black-gloved  hand  this  strange  apparition  held 
a  lighted  candle. 

"I  trust  I  have  found  the  right  place,"  said  K-rnlal, 
"I  am  in  search  of  Madame  Morlacci,  the  f<       ne 
teller." 

At  the  sound  of  the  deep,  rich,  mello- 
figure  started  back  as  though  it  had  be< 
sudden  blow,  the  black-shrouded  hand  . 
candle  shook  as  if  from  palsy. 

"Come  in,"  replied  a  muffled  voice,  that  s 
like  nothing  human,  it  was  so  weird. 

Kendal  stepped  fearlessly  into  the  r< 
ners  of  which  were  in  deepest  gloom,  w' 
ering  rays  of  the  candle  could  not  pcne'j 

"Well,"   said   Kendal,   impatiently,   " J 


166  PRETTY   MADCAP  DOROTHY 

grateful  to  commence  the  preliminaries  of  this  for* 
tune-telling  business  at  your  earliest  convenience,  if 
you  please,  madam ;  my  time  is  somewhat  limited."  j 

Kendal  drew  forth  his  pocket-book,  took  out  a  bank* 
bill  and  handed  it  to  the  strange  creature;  but,  to 
his  intense  surprise,  she  flung  it  back  almost  in  his 
lace. 

1     "I  can  tell  you  all  you  wish  to  know  without  a 
lee,"  cried  the  hoarse,  muffled  voice,  which  somehow; , 
made  every  drop  of  blood  in  Kendalls  veins  run  cold 
as  he  heard  it. 

"That  would  not  be  very  profitable  to  you,  I  am 
sure,  madame,"  he  said,  wonderingly. 

"That  makes  no  difference  to  you,"  was  the  almost 
rude  answer.  He  felt  quite  disconcerted;  he  hardly 
knew  what  to  say  next.  This  certainly  was  an  odd 
contretemps,  to  say  the  least.  "You  are  here  to  learn 
the  whereabouts  of— a  woman??  she  whispered,  in  a 
deep,  uncanny  voice.  "Is  it  not  so?" 

"By  Heaven!  you  are  quite  right,"  cried  Kendal,  in 
amazement,  quite  startled  out  of  his  usual  politeness. 

This  woman  had  never  laid  eyes  on  him  before,  he 
told  himself.  Now,  how,  in  the  name  of  all  that  was 
wonderful,  could  she  have  known  this?  He  had 
sneered  at  fortune-telling  all  his  whole  life  through; 
now  he  began  to  wonder  if  there  was  not  something 
in  it,  after  all. 

"This  woman,  who  is  young,  and  by  some  called 
beautiful,  will  be  your  evil  genius !"  she  hissed.  "You 
wronged  her  through  your  fickle-mindedness,  and. 
wrecked  her  young  life." 

"Great  God!"  he  cried,  "are  you  woman  or  devil, 
ar  a  combination  of  both?  But  go  on — go  on!"  he 


PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY  16 

cried,  excitedly.  "I  see  you  know  all  my  past.  There 
is  no  use  in  my  attempting  to  hide  anything  from  you. 
But  tell  me,  where  shall  I  find  this  young  woman  of 
.whom  you  speak?  I  must  track  her  down." 

A  laugh  that  was  horrible  to  hear  broke  from  the 
lips  of  the  veiled  woman  opposite  him. 

"That  you  will  never  be  able  to  do!"  she  cried, 
fiercely.  Chough  she  may  cross  your  path  at  will, 
you  might  as  well  hunt  for  a  particular  grain  of  sand 
along  the  sea-shore,  a  needle  in  a  haystack,  a  special 
blade  of  grass  in  a  whole  field.  You  may  recognize 
this  fact,  and  abide  by  it.  But,  hark  you !  listen  to 
what  I  have  to  say :  The  fates  have  decreed  that  your 
heart  shall  be  wrung  as  you  have  wrung  hers — pang 
for  pang!" 

"Who  and  what  are  you,"  he  cried,  "who  talk  to 
me  in  this  way?  You  act  more  like  a  vengeful  spirit 
than  a  woman  unconcerned  in  my  affairs.  Who  and 
what  are  you,  anyhow?" 

"I  tell  you  only  what  I  see,"  was  the  muttered 
response. 

"See  where?"  demanded  Kendal  in  agitation. 

"That  is  not  for  you  to  know." 

"But  I  shall— I  will  know!"  he  cried,  furiously. 
"There  is  something  underneath  all  this  trumpery. 
I  am  not  a  man  to  be  trifled  with  in  this  fashion,  I 
can  tell  you,  with  your  fortune-telling  nonsense — 
humbuggery !" 

"Then,  pray,  what  brings  you  here?  what  is  your 
object  in  coming?"  asked  the  other,  with  a  covert 
sneer. 

"To  hear  what  lies  you  could  trump  up,"  replied 
Kendal,  boldly. 


168  PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY 

"Our  interview  is  ended,"  said  the  veiled  figure, 
iising  and  pointing  her  long  arm  toward  the  door. 

He  knew  that  he  must  temporize  with  her  if  he 
would  find  out  Dorothy's  whereabouts,  which  he  was 
beginning  to  believe  she  might  find  out  for  him. 

"Will  you  pardon  me?"  he  asked,  humbling  himself. 
WI — I  must  know  more." 

"You  have  heard  all  that  I  have  So  say,  Harry 
Kendall"  she  cried. 

Who  was  this  creature  who  knew  him — aye,  knew 
his  name,  his  most  secret  affairs  ?  He  must— he  would 
know. 

With  a  quick  bound  he  cleared  the  space  which 
divided  them,  and  in  a  trice  he  had  grasped  her  wrists 
firmly  and  torn  the  veil  from  her  face. 

This  was  followed  by  a  mighty  cry. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

The  instant  Harry  Kendal  sprang  toward  the  veiled 
woman  she  sprang  backward,  as  though  anticipating 
the  movement,  and  quick  as  a  flash  she  overturned  the 
candle,  just  as  he  tore  the  veil  from  her  face. 

A  low,  taunting  laugh  broke  from  her  lips  through 
the  inky  darkness  of  the  room.  In  a  trice  she  had 
torn  herself  free  from  his  grasp,  and  like  a  flash  she 
had  sped  from  the  room  and  down  the  narrow  hall 
and  stairway,  like  a  storm-driven  swallow,  leaving  her 
companion  stumbling  about  the  place,  and  giving  vent 
to  curses  loud  and  deep  as  he  fumbled  about  his  vest 
pocket  for  matches. 


PRETTy  MADCAP  DOROTHY  169 

The  veiled  woman  never  stopped  until  she  reached 
the  street,  then  paused  for  a  moment  and  looked  back 
as  she  reached  the  nearest  gas  lamp. 

As  the  flickering  ra\s  of  the  street  lamp  fell 
athwart  her  face,  the  features  of  Nadine  Holt  were 

>;  clearly  revealed,  her  black  eyes  blazing,  and  her  jet 

•  fclack  hair  streaming  wildly  about  her  face. 

|      "How  strange!"  she  panted,  "that  this  idea  of  for 
tune  telling  should  have  come  to  me  as  a  means  of 

'gaining  my  living!  I  was  driven  to  do  something. 
And  that  he  should  have  been  the  very  first  patron  to 
come  to  me — he,  of  all  others!  He  is  tracking  me" 
down  because  I  maimed  the  girl  whom  he  is  so  soon 
to  wed — yes,  tracking  me  down  to  throw  me  into 
prison — and  yet  he  was  once  my  lover!  It  is  always 
the  way.  When  a  man's  heart  grows  cold  to  one  love, 
and  another's  face  has  charmed  him,  it  seems  to  me  as 
Chough  men  have  a  cruel,  feverish  desire  to  thrust  the 
first  love  from  them  at  whatever  cost.  But  I  will  be 
revenged  upon  him!  I  will  live  to  make  his  very  life 
a  torture;  but  I  shall  do  it  through  Dorothy  Glenn. „ 
I  will  go  to  Dorothy  Glenn  at  once,  and  we  shall  see 
what  will  happen  then." 

Meanwhile,  after  much  fumbling  and  imprecations 
loud  and  deep,  Kendal  succeeded  in  striking  a  match 
and  finding  the  overturned  bit  of  wax  taper,  which  he 
hastily  lighted,  peering  cautiously  into  the  inky  dark 
ness  which  surrounded  him. 

He  was  tired  and  exhausted,  and  he  told  himself 
that  he  would  turn  in  at  the  nearest  hotel,  take  a  good 
night's  rest,  and  mature  his  plans  on  the  morrow  for 
rinding  Dorothy. 

Meanwhile,  let  us  go  back,  dear  reader,  to  the  houS 


'170  PRETTY  MADCAP  DOROTHT 

i 

• 

in  which  our  heroine,  little  Dorothy,  decided  to  leav# 
Gray  Gables. 

\  For  some  moments  after  Harry  Kendal  had  left  her 
in  anger  in  the  corridor  she  stood  quite  still — stood 

i  there  long-  after  the  sound  of  his  footsteps  had  died 
away,  trying  to  realize  the  full  purport  of  his  words— 
that  their  engagement  was  at  an  end,  and  that  the^ 
had  parted  forever. 

1  The  whole  world  seemed  to  stand  still  about  her. 
Then,  like  one  suddenly  dazed,  she  turned  and  crept 
into  her  own  room.  Katy  was  there  awaiting*  her. 

She  suffered  the  girl  to  place  her  in  a  chair,  to  taltft 
the  faded  blossoms  from  her  hand  and  from  her  cor* 
sage,  to  unfasten  the  strings  of  pearls,  and  to  remove 
her  ball  dress. 

By  degrees  she  had  informed  Katy  of  her  regaining 
her  sight,  and  the  poor  girl's  joy  knew  no  bounds. 

She  wondered  greatly  how  Dorothy  could  feel  so 
'downcast  in  such  an  hour,  and  she  never  once  heeded 
Dorothy's  sad  words — that  she  was  going  to  leave 
Gray  Gables  before  the  dawn,  as  there  was  no  one 
there  who  loved  her. 

It  was  so  late  when  Katy  sought  her  own  couch  that 
she  soon  dropped  into  a  deep  sleep.  This  Dorothy 
had  watched  for  \vith  the  greatest  impatience.  Shs 
soon  rose,  robed  herself  in  a  dark  dress  and  Katy's 
long  cloak,  and  was  soon  ready  for  the  great  under* 
taking  which  she  had  mapped  out  for  herself. 

Hastily  writing  a  note,  she  placed  it  where  Katy's 
eyes  would  be  sure  to  fall  upon  it  early  the  next  morn* 
Jug;  then  she  stole  quietly  from  the  room.  The  great 
clock  in  die  corridor  below  struck  three  as  ah'e  passed 
al  with  Bated  breath  and  trembling  ih  every  limb. 


PRETTY  MADCAP  DOROTHY  171 

She  opened  the  door  softly  and  stole  out  into  the 
chill,  raw  night. 

There  was  no  one  in  this  wide  world  to  miss  her, 
no  one  to  care  what  became  of  her!  She  was  in 
every  one's  way.  Only  one  thought  suggested  itself 
to  her — to  end  it  all.  Perhaps  Harry  Kendal  would 
feel  very  sorry  when  the  news  came  to  him  on  the 
morrow  that  she  was  dead — she  whom  he  had  spurned 
so  cruelly  only  the  night  before.  And  perhaps  he 
would  throw  himself  beside  her  cold,  dead  body  and 
wish  that  he  had  been  less  cruel  to  her,  and  cry  out: 

"Oh,  if  God  would  but  roll  back  His  universe  and 
give  me  \esterday!" 

She  had  no  fixed  destination,  but  walked  on  and  on, 
fmti!  she  suddenly  found  herself  down  by  the  Yonkers 
Boat  Club  House,  that  stretched  its  dark  shadow  afar 
out  into  the  river.  It  was  connected  with  the  shore  by 
a  long,  narrow  plank  walk. 

Mechanically  Dorothy  crept  down  the  narrow,  wind- 
lug  stairway  that  led  to  it.  Midway  on  the  plank  walk 
she  paused,  clung  desperately  to  the  rail  and  looked 
fearfully  down  into  the  dark,  flowing  river  that  rushed 
on  so  madly  but  a  few  feet  below  her. 

Only  a  few  flickering  stars  would  see  and  know  all, 
she  told  herself.  There  would  be  but  a  plunge,  a 
deathly  shiver  as  her  warm  body  came  in  contact  with 
the  icy  waves,  a  moment  of  choking-,  a  terrible  sensa 
tion,  then  all  would  be  over— her  troubles  would  be 
at  an  end ! 

What  cared  she  for  the  wealth  of  a  hundred  Gray 
Gables  and  princely  estates  when  love's  boon  was  de 
nied  her? 
I    (Even  in  that  hour  and  in  that  weird  place  she 


172  PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY 

thought  of  the  words  another  heart-broken  girl  b«4 
Ottered  long  years  before : 

"Yon  have  learned  to  love  another, 

You  have  broken  every  vow; 

We  have  parted  from  each  other, 

And  my  heart  is  lonely  now. 

"Oh!  was  it  well  to  sever 

This  fond  heart  from  thine  forever? 
Can  I  forget  thee?    Never! 
Farewell,  lost  love,  forever! 

*\Ve  have  met,  and  we  have  parted, 

But  I  uttered  scarce  a  word ; 
But,  God !  how  my  poor  heart  started 
When  thy  well-known  voice  I  heard! 

"Oh!  woman's  love  will  grieve  her, 

And  woman's  pride  will  leave  her; 
Life  has  fled  when  love  deceives  her, 
Farewell — farewell  forever!" 

i 

"I   am  so  young  to  die!"   sobbed   Dorothy.     "I 

haven't  done  very  much  good  in  the  world,  but  surely: 
I  have  done  no  wrong." 

'     Then  it  occurred  to  her  suddenly — a  little  triMe 
•which  she  had  quite  forgotten: 

She  had  taken  Nadine  Holt's  lover  from  her,  and 
the  girl  was  broken-hearted  over  his  loss;  and  now 
Heaven  had,  in  turn,  taken  him  from  her.  This. was 
God's  vengeance  upon  her. 


PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY 

Could  even  Nadine  Holt  see  her  now  she  would 
feel  sorry  and  find  pity  for  her. 

Suddenly,  to  her  intense  amazement,  Dorothy  saw; 
a  man  hurrying  along  the  high  cliff  just  above  where 
she  stood.  He  was  advancing  toward  her  with  hasty; 
strides  that  broke  almost  into  a  run.  * 

Dorothy  noticed  that  he  carried  a  large  black  bundle 
in  his  arms,  and  that  he  was  heading  directly  'Coward 
the  boat  house. 

She  saw  him  lean  forward,  raise  the  bundle  quickly 
and  dash  it  into  the  river,  turn  rapidly,  and  break 
into  a  quick  run  in  the  opposite  direction. 

The  bundle  did  not  quite  reach  the  water's  edge,  she 
saw ;  he  had  missed  his  aim. 

Dorothy  stopped  short  and  peered  over  the  rails  at 
it,  wondering  what  it  could  contain. 

As  she  did  so  she  observed  that  there  was  motion 
•within  the  small,  dark  bundle.  It  contained  some  liv 
ing  thing,  she  felt  quite  sure. 

Dare  she  go  and  examine  it?  she  asked  herself.  Per 
haps  it  was  some  poor  animal  doomed  to  death  that  was 
bound  up  in  that  unsightly  bundle. 

Her  heart  stirred  with  pity  at  the  thought,  and  at 
that  moment  a  cry,  faint  and  muffled,  broke  the  still 
ness  of  the  night. 

It  emanated  from  the  dark  bundle.  Quick  as  a  flastf 
Dorothy  retraced  her  steps  until  she  reached  the  bank, 
and  down  this  she  clambered  with  alacrity. 

But  when  she  was  almost  within  reach  of  the  bundle 
it  rolled  down  into  the  water  with  a  splash,  and  the 
mad  waves  covered  it. 

With  a  cry  Dorothy  sprang  forward  just  in 


174  PRETTY  MADCAP  DOROTHY 

and  caught  it  as  the  undertow  was  bearing  it  out  into 
the  deep  water. 

Again  there  was  a  quick  cry  and  struggle  within  the 
bundle.  In  a  twinkling  Dorothy  h^d  torn  off  the 
wrappings. 

"Oh,  God  in  Heaven!"  she  cried,  "it  is  a  little 
child!" 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

The  cry  died  away  in  Dorothy's  throat  as  ner  ter 
rified  eyes  fell  upon  the  bundle  which  she  held  in  he$ 
arms. 

Yes,  it  was  a  little  child. 

"Oh,  the  cruelty  of  it!"  she  sobbed  aloud.  Some 
one  had  doomed  it  to  death  on  this  bitter  night,  and 
she  thanked  Heaven  for  bringing  her  to  that  spot  ta 
save  its  life. 

[Wrapping  it  quickly  in  the  ends  of  her  long,  thick 
Cloak,  Dorothy  hurried  to  the  nearest  shelter  with  it. 

This  happily  proved  to  be  a  small  cottage  on  the 
Outskirts  of  the  town.  A  solitary  ray  of  light  shone 
'from  one  of  the  windows,  and  without  hesitation 
Dorothy  hastened  up  the  little  narrow  path  to  th<* 
porch  and  rang  the  bell. 

She  quite  believed  that  she  would  know  the  inmates 
of  the  cottage,  for  she  well  knew  every  one  in  the 
village. 

It  was  a  strange  woman  that  opened  the  door  at 
iengtli  and  peered  out  at  her,  and  a  shrill  voice  cried : 

w\Vhy,  as  I  live,  Maria,  it's  a  woxvaa  standing 


PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY  175 

fiere  with  a  child  in  her  arms!     Why,  what  in  the 
world  can  you  want?"  she  cried,  addressing  Dorothy. 
"I  thought  I  should  see  some  one  here  whom  I 
knew,"  faltered  Dorothy. 

"No;  we  are  strangers  here,"  replied  the  woman. 
,  "We  have  just  moved  into  this  cottage  to-day.  We 
I  are  from  down  country,  my  man  and  me,  and  my  girl 

I  Maria.  We  don't  know  any  one  hereabouts,  so  I  can't 
direct  you.  But,  dear  me!  it's  an  uncanny  time  of 
night  for  a  woman  to  be  out.  You  ought  to  be  care 
ful  of  your  little  baby,  if  you  have  no  thought  for 
yourself,  ma'am." 

Dorothy  tried  to  speak,  but  words  seemed  to  fail 
her. 

"  But  won't  you  come  in  and  rest  for  a  bit  ?"  asked 
the  woman,  pityingly.  "I  can't  let  you  go  away  with 
out  at  least  warming  yourself  by  the  fire.  I  am  sitting 
up  with  my  sick  daughter." 

Dorothy  gladly  accepted  the  kindly  offer  and  en 
tered. 

Dorothy  was  about  to  tell  the  woman  the  story  of 
how  she  had  rescued  the  little  one,  when  it  occurred 
to  her  that  this  would  necessitate  her  explaining  how 
she  herself  had  come  to  be  in  that  locality  at  that  hour, 
and  this  she  shrank  from  doing. 

i      The  woman  was  a  stranger  in  the  neighborhood,  she 

argued  to  herself,  and  would  never  know  her  again. 

'  IWhy  not  hold  her  peace?    But,  then,  what  would  she 

do  with  the  little  one    that    Fate    had    thrown    so 

strangely  upon  her  mercy? 

She  quite  believed  that  it  did  not  belong  to  any 
one  in  the  neighborhood,  nor  had  she  heard  of  a  little 
one  like  this.  She  saw  that  the  clothing  upon  it  was 


176  PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY 


a 


of  the  daintiest  texture,  and  the  embroidery  upon  it 
iwas  of  the  finest. 

"Oh,  what  a  beautiful  little  baby!"  cried  the  woman, 
her  heart  at  once  warming  toward  the  little  stranger. 
"How  much  it  looks  like  you!"  she  added,  turning  to 
Dorothy. 
f.    "What!"  cried  the  girl,  in  amazement. 

"I  said  your  baby  looked  like  you,"  repeated  the 


s     She  wondered  why  the  young  girl  flushed  to  the 
roots  of  her  golden  hair. 

"We  must  go  now,"  said  Dorothy  at  length;  "and 
£  thank  you,  madame,  for  your  hospitality." 

The  woman,  with  clouded  eyes,  looked  after  th® 
slender  figure  as  it  disappeared. 

"A  lovely  but  very  mysterious  young-  woman  I"  sfo§ 
ejaculated.  "I  hope  everything  is  all  right.  Slfc  ^^ 
ivery  young.  It  is  a  great  pity  for  the  little  child." 

Meanwhile,  Dorothy  struggled  on  through  th*  aim 
li;;ht  of  the  fast  dying  night,  and  soon  found  herself 
a  t  the  railway  station  without  any  seeming  volition  c£ 
fc  er  own. 

In  her  pocket  was  her  purse,  which  the  good  old 

Doctor  in  one  of  his  generous  moods  had  filled  to  over- 

Rowing.    She  had  had  no  occasion  to  use  it  until  now. 

v     The  poor  little  one  had  commenced  to  cry  now,  and 

tyhen  Dorothy  hushed  its  cries  it  cuddled  up  to  hen 

.with  a  grateful  sob  and  nestled  its  head  on  her  arm. 

f    Why  shouldn't  she  keep  the  baby  that  fate  had  sent 

clirectly  into  her  arms?  she  asked  herself? 

f     Yes,  she  would  keep  it.    For  was  there  not  a  bond 

of  sympathy  between  this  poor  little  one,  whom  those 

wfio  should  have  loved  and  cared  for  had  consigned 


PRETTY   MADCAP  DOROTHY  177 

to  a  watery  grave,  and  herself,  who  had  sought  the 
same  watery  grave  to  end  her  own  wretched  ex-- 
istence  ? 

"You  and  I  will  live  for  each  other,  baby,"  she 
sobbed,  holding  the  wee  mite  closer.  "  I  will  keep  you 
for  my  very  own,  and  I  will  pray  for  the  time  to  come 
when  you  will  be  big-  enough  for  me  to  tell  you  all  my 
sorrows.  You  will  put  your  little  arms  around  my 
neck  and  your  soft,  warm  cheek  against  mine,  and  try 
to  comfort  me." 

Dorothy  had  made  her  resolve,  little  dreaming  that 
it  would  end  in  a  tragedy. 

She  boarded  the  train,  and  was  soon  steaming  away 
toward  New  York  city — the  great,  cruel  city  of  New 
York,  rampant  with  wickedness  and  crime. 

More  than  one  passenger  noticed  the  lovely  young 
girl  with  the  tiny  infant  in  her  arms,  and  marveled  as 
to  whether  or  not  it  could  possibly  belong  to  her;  for 
surely  the  girl  could  not  be  a  day  over  sixteen,  or 
seventeen,  at  most. 

All  unconscious  of  this  close  scrutiny,  Dorothy 
watched  the  little  one  with  wondering  eyes  all  the 
way  until  she  reached  the  metropolis. 

Her  first  idea  was  to  seek  a  boarding  place,  and 
then  she  could  look  about,  her. 

To  her  dismay,  among  the  half  score  to  which  she 
walked  until  she  could  almost  drop  down  from  ex 
haustion,  no  one  cared  to  take  her  and  the  child  in; 
and  it  seemed  to  her.  too,  that  they  were  rude  in  re 
fusing  her,  and  more  than  one  actually  shut  the  door 
in  her  face. 

She  was  tired — so  tired — carrying  the  heavy  child 
ip  her  arms.  She  had  given  the  name  Miss 


178  PRETTY    MADCAP   DOROTHY 

each  instance,  and  at  last  on-e  landlady  came  out 
'bluntly  and  said  to  her : 

"It  would  sound  a  deal  more  proper  to  call  y^ur- 
self  Mrs.  Brown,  if  you  please,  ma'am,"  at  the  same 
time  pointing  to  the  child  in  her  arms. 

Then  it  dawned  upon  Dorothy's  miad  why  every; 
One  had  refused  them  shelter,  even  for  money. 

"Why  shouldn't  I  call  myself  Mrs.  instead  of  Miss 
'Brown?  One  name  is  as  good  as  another,"  she  said 
to  herself.  It  was  all  the  same  to  her;  anything,  so 
that  she  would  not  be  separated  from  this  poor  little 
baby,  whom  she  had  learned  to  love  in  those  short 
hours  with  all  the  strength  of  her  yearning  heart. 

At  the  next  boarding  house,  recklessly  enough, 
Dorothy  gave  the  name  of  Mrs.  Brown,  and  she  found 
no  trouble  in  securing  accommodations  there. 

"Poor  child!  she  seems  so  young  to  be  left  a 
widow!"  exclaimed  the  landlady,  in  relating  to  her 
other  boarders  that  night  that  she  had  let  room  sixteen 
to  such  a  pretty  young  woman,  with  the  loveliest  little 
angel  of  a  baby  that  ever  was  born. 

No  one  ever  yet  took  a  false  position  without  finding 
himself  ere  long  hedged  in  with  difficulties. 

And  so  poor  Dorothy  found  it, 

She  was  continually  plied  with  questions  by  the  rest 
of  the  boarders  as  to  how  long  since  her  husband  hadL 
died,  and  how  long  since  she  had  taken  off  mourning*, 
or  if  she  had  put  on  mourning  at  all  for  him,  and  i£ 
baby  reminded  her  of  its  poor,  dear,  dead  papa. 

Dorothy's  alarm  at  this  can  more  readily  b« 
imagined  than  described.  She  almost  felt  like  burst* 
ing  into  a  flood  of  tears  and  running  from  the  room. 

It  had  gone  so  far  now  that  she  was  ashamed  to  tell 


PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY  179 

the  truth ;  and  then  there  was  the  terrible  fear  that  if 
people  knew  it  was  not  her  very  own  they  would  take 
it  from  her;  and  she  had  learned  to  love  it  with  all 
the  fondness  of  her  desperate,  lonely  heart. 

And  then,  too,  it  seemed  to  know  her  and  feel  sorry 
for  her. 

It  knew  her,  and  would  coo  to  her,  and  cry  for*  her 
to  take  it. 

She  had  named  it,  long  since,  little  Pearl,  because 
she  had  fished  il  from  the  water.  But,  to  tell  the  truth, 
she  found  it  a  terrible  responsibility  on  her  hands. 

She  did  not  know  what  to  do  with  the  child. 

She  could  not  go  out  and  leave  it  in  the  house,  and 
she  couldn't  take  it  with  her. 

She  had  been  searching  for  a  situation  the  last  few 
days,  and,  to  her  unspeakable  horror,  she  found  that 
no  one  wanted  a  young  woman  encumbered  with  a 
child. 

Had  she  been  older,  she  would  have  known  better 
than  to  have  assumed  such  a  responsibility;  but  Doro 
thy  was  young,  and  had  some  of  life's  bitterest  lessons 
yet  to  learn. 

Dorothy  had  turned  her  face  resolutely  against  tha 
fortune  which  Doctor  Bryan  had  left. 

She  quite  believed,  if  she  was  not  there  to  receive  it, 
it  would  go  to  Kendal,  her  faithless  lover. 

She  wanted  him  to  have  it.  She  did  not  care  for 
any  of  it. 

She  had  been  only  a  work:ng  girl  when  Doctor 
Bryan  sought  her  out  and  took  her  to  his  home ;  she 
could  be  only  a  working  girl  again. 


180  PRETTY  MADCAP  DOROTHY 

CHAPTER  XXVII. 

In  the  hour  of  Dorothy's  desolation  her  heart  went 
back  to  Jack  Gamer,  who  had  loved  her  so  in  other 
cays.  Poor  Jack!  whom  she  had  thrown  over  so 
cruelly  for  a  handsomer,  wealthier  fellow,  only  to  be 
deserted  by  him  in  turn  for  the  first  pretty  face  that 
had  crossed  his  path. 

And  that  very  day  came  the  turning-  point  of  her 
life. 

She'  had  answered  an  advertisement  a  few  days 
before  by  letter  to  an  intelligence  office,  and  in  the 
course  of  a  week  she  received  the  following  reply : 

"My  DEAR  MADAM — Replying  to  your  note,  would 
say  your  communication  was  hardly  explicit  enough' 
for  us  to  determine  whether  you  would  suit  our  patron 
or  not. 

"The  party  we  refer  to  is  Mrs.  Garner,  a  widow. 
Her  family  consists  of  one  son,  a  niece  who  lives  with! 
them,  and  a  young  lady. 

"They  wish  a  companion  for  Mrs.  Garner.  She 
requires  a  somewhat  elderly  woman.  Even  the  child' 
would  not  be  so  objectionable,  if  the  right  person  were 
secured." 

The  letter  dropped  from  Dorothy's  hand,  and  she 
uttered  a  low  cry;  but  presently  picking  it  up,  and 
reading  it  eagerly  through  again,  she  found  a  post 
script  added  to  it  which  read  as  follow  s : 

"Call,  if  you  please,  at  the  Garner  homestead  to 
morrow,  at  10 :30  A.  M.,  if  convenient." 

Dorothy's  heart  beat  quickly.  Could  it  be  possible 
that  this  Garner  family  and  the  one  she  had  known 


PRETTY    MADCAP   DOROTF"  181 

were  one  and  the  same?  Oh,  no!  it  could  not  be,  for 
they  were  poor,  very  poor,  and  these  people  lived  in  a 
fashionable  quarter. 

Jack  might  plod  along  all  his  life  and  never  have 
a  dollar  ahead.  Poor  Jack !  And  her  eyes  grew  moist 
as  she  thought*1  of  him.  Ah,  how  well  he  had  loved 
her! 

Dorothy  knew  quite  well  that  according  to  the  re 
quirements  of  the  advertiser  she  would  not  suit  on 
account  of  her  youth.  An  older  person  than  herself 
•was  wanted ;  yet  the  thought  of  the  possibility  of  tak 
ing  little  Pearl  with  her  caused  her  to  ponder  over  the 
matter  very  carefully.  Surely  there  was  some  way  to 
meet  the  difficulty. 

"I  am  afraid  I  will  not  get  the  situation  I  was  tell 
ing  you  of  last  night,"  said  Dorothy  to  her  landlady ; 
and  she  told  her  why. 

"Youth  and  beauty,  although  the  greatest  blessings 
Heaven  can  give  us,  often  bring  with  them  &  certain 
train  of  disadvantages.  I  once  knew  a  young  and  most 
lovely  girl  who,  on  this  very  account,  could  not  get 
work.  She  resorted  to  a  desperate  meus.r.re,  but  it 
insured  success.  Perhaps  it  might  in  your  case.  She 
put  on,  over  her  golden  curls,  a  dark  wig  v/ith  plenty 
of  gray  in  it,  seamed  a  wrinkle  or  two  under  her  kmg- 
lashes  with  a  camel's  hair  pencil,  and  put  on  a  pair  of 
glasses.  She  secured  a  position  as  house  Veper  in  an 
eccentric  old  bachelor's  family,  which  con-1 -'ted  of  only 
himself  and  his  aged  parents.  Well,  the  old  folks 
soon  passed  away,  the  old  bachelor  soon  following 
them,  and  every  dollar  he  had  on  earth  he  left  to  his 
housekeeper,  to  'keep  her  from  the  poor  house  to 
which  she  would  soon  have  to  go  in  her  old  age,9  as  he 


182  PRETTY   MADCAP  DOROTHY 

phrased  it.  It  was  a  large  fortune,  and  she  is  enjoy 
ing  it  to-day  with  a  young  husband  and  dear  little 
children  gathered  about  her,  and  she  often  speaks  of  it 
when  I  see  her,  and  tells  me  all  her  good  luck  came 
from  putting  on  that  wig,  donning  the  spectacles,  and 
lining  her  face  to  make  it  look  old.  She  never  would 
Iiave  gained  that  position  otherwise,  for  she  was  very 
fair  and  childish  in  appearance." 

"I  think  I  will  do  the  same  thing!"  cried  Dorothy, 
enthusiastically.  "It  can  do  no  harm,  anyway.  It  is 
a  terrible  deceit  to  practice,  but  if  I  secure  the  position, 
and  the  people  learn  to  like  me,  in  a  very  short  time  I 
Will  reveal  the  truth  to  them,  and  I  think  they  will  find 
pardon  for  me  and  keep  me  in  their  employ." 

"I  am  sure  they  will,"  assented  her  companion, 
'"and  all  I  can  say  is,  I  hope  you  may  have  as  great 
good  luck  as  the  girl  I  told  you  about." 

Dorothy  smiled  faintly. 

"I- — 1  would- never  care  to  be— be  rich,"  she  fal 
tered.  "There  are  some  people  whom  Heaven  in 
tended  to  always  work  for  a  living— I  am  one  o£ 
them." 

"If  you  think  of  buying  a  wig,  I  have  one  to  sell 
you,"  said  the  landlady.  "I  used  to  be  in  the  the 
atrical  business,  and  had  all  those  things.  I  will  show 
you  how  to  make  up  for  a  middle-aged  woman,  so  that 
even  your  own  folks  wouldn't  know  you  in  broad  day 
light." 

Dorothy  was  a  little  dubious  upon  hearing  all  this. 
She  wondered  if  it  was  not  to  sell  the  outfit  that  the 
landlady  had  suggested  all  this.  However,  she  pas-- 
sively  placed  herself  in  her  hands,  and  the  work  of 
transformation  began. 


PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY  183 

"Now,  look!"  exclaimed  the  landlady,  at  length, 
"What  do  you  think  of  yourself  now?"  and  she 
placed  a  hand  glass  before  her. 

Dorothy  uttered  a  low  cry.  Could  that  face  be  her 
own  at  which  she  gazed  in  the  mirror's  depths  ?  Was 
she  the  old  woman  represented  there  ?  And  from  the 
bottom  of  her  heart  she  thanked  God  that  it  was  only 
make-believe;  that  beneath  it  all  her  face  was  still 
young  and  fair,  without  the  ravaging  touch  of  Time's 
.withering  hand. 

But  it  touched  her  heart  keenly  to  see  her  little 
Pearl,  whom  she  was  learning  to  fairly  idolize,  shrink 
from  her. 

"I  must,  indeed,  look  greatly  changed,"  she  said, 
with  a  sob. 

Hastily  dressing  the  little  one,  and  taking  her  with1 
her,  Dorothy  wended  her  way  to  her  destination. 

She  had  always  looked  upon  a  little  child  much  the 
same  as  a  little  girl  admires  a  big  wax  doll.  Nozv  she 
was  beginning  to  realize  that  a  real  live  baby  must  be 
washed  and  dressed  and  fed  and  attended  to;  that  it 
wouldn't  go  to  sleep  or  keep  awake  when  people 
wished ;  in  short,  she  was  beginning  to  understand  that 
it  could  be  a  darling  little  nuisance  at  limes,  even  to 
those  who  adored  the  dimpled  bit  of  precious  human 
ity  the  most. 

Fairly  panting  with  carrying  so  heavy  a  burden  in 
her  slender  arms,  Dorothy  reached  at  length  the  ave 
nue  and  number — a  magnificent  brown  stone  mansion 
in  the  center  of  the  block. 

With  beating  heart  she  ascended  the  steps  and 
touched  the  bell. 


184  PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY 

A  very  polite  servant  answered  her  summons  and 
ushered  her  into  a  spacious  drawing-room. 

"Madame  will  be  with  you  presently,  as  she  is  ex 
pecting  you,"  he  said,  indicating  a  seat. 

Little  Pearl  commenced  to  cry,  and  Dorothy  \vas  at 
her  wit's  end  to  know  what  to  do  with  her. 

She  was  all  flushed  with  nervousness  by  the  time 
she  heard  footsteps  in  the  corridor  approaching  the 
room. 

An  instant  later  the  silken  portieres  were  swept 
aside  by  a  white,  jeweled  hand,  and  a  white-haired 
lady  entered. 

Dorothy  rose  to  her  feet,  and  caught  her  breath  with' 
a  low  cry  that  died  in  her  throat. 

The  room  seemed  to  whirl  around  her.  She  stood 
face  to  face  with  Jack's  mother ! 

Dorothy  had  never  seen  her  but  once  or  twice  be 
fore  in  those  old  days. 

She  remembered  every  lineament  of  her  face  per 
fectly,  however.  How  couid  she  help  it,  when  Mrs. 
Garner  bore  such  a  striking  resemblance  to  her  fair- 
hairedj,  handsome  son  ?  But  she  could  not  understand 
it;  it  almost  seemed  as  if  she  was  in  a  dream  to  find. 
Mrs.  Garner  here  surrounded  by  such  elegance  as  this. 

But  before  she  could  collect  her  scattered  senses  the 
lady  advanced  toward  her,  saying,  in  her  sweet,  kind 
voice : 

"You  are  very  punctual,  Mrs.  Brown.  This  is  in 
itself  a  great  recommendation.  You  are  tired  holding' 
the  baby  in  you?  arms.  I  will  ring  for  one  of  the 
servants  to  relieve  you  for  a  little  while,  if  you  wish." 

Dorothy  never  remembered  in  what  words  she 
thanked  her,  and  she  was  even  too  confused  to  keep 


PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY  185 

tk:  thread  of  the  conversation,  but  was  conscious  that. 
she  was  replying  at  random.    Yet  the  kind  old  lady 
did  sot  seem  to  notice  her  confusion. 

"I  want  some  one  for  a  companion,"  said  the  lady, 
slowly.  "I  have  recently  lost  my  niece,  Miss  Barbara 
Hallenbeck,  and  her  death  preys  heavily  upon  my; 
mind." 

Dorothy  was  shocked  at  the  news,  but  she  could 
utter  no  comment. 

"I  am  soon  to  lose  my  son,"  went  on  Mrs.  Garner, 
slowly. 

Dorothy  sprang  to  her  feet  with  a  gasping  cry : 

"Jack  dying!" 

Poor,  dear,  faithful  Jack  Garner,  who  had  loved 
her  so  well!  It  seemed  to  Dorothy  that  every  pulse 
in  her  body  quivered,  arid  her  heart  was  almost  burst 
ing  at  the  news. 

In  that  one  hour  the  girl's  heart  was  revealed  to 
her. 

She  was  face  to  face  with  the  truth  at  last:  she 
loved  Jack  Garner — yes,  she  loved  Jack! 

In  that  moment  of  time  the  past  seemed  to  glide  be 
fore  her  mental  vision  like  a  vast  panorama. 

She  turned  with  a  gesture  of  woe  pitiful  to  behold 
to  his  dear  old  mother. 

"You  are  about  to  lose  your  only  son?"  she  gasped. 
"May  Heaven  pity  you!"  She  was  almost  about  to 
add:  "If  I  could  save  his  life  by  giving  my  own,  oh, 
how  gladly  I  would  do  it !" 

Mrs.  Garner  saw  the  look  on  her  face,  and  rigfctl>; 
interpreted  it. 

"Do  not  misunderstand  me,"  she  added,  hastily.    *J 


186  PRETTY  MADCAP  DOROTHY 

'do  not  mean  that  I  am  to  lose  him  by  death.    My  son 
1s  soon  to  be  married." 


CHAPTES  XXVIII. 


r  a  moment  the  room  seemed  to  whirl  around 
Dorothy.  The  words  seemed  to  strike  into  her  very 
brain  as  they  fell  from  Mrs.  Garner's  lips.  "My  son 
is  soon  to  be  married !"  and  the  four  walls  seemed  to 
repeat  and  re-echo  them. 

"I  shall  lose  a  son,  but  I  shall  gain  a  dear  daughter," 
added  the  old  lady,  softly. 

For  an  instant,  as  Dorothy  sat  trembling  there,  the 
impulse  was  strong  upon  her  to  fly  from  the  house. 
The  very  air  seemed  to  stifle  her. 

While  she  hesitated,  fate  settled  the  matter  for  her. 
The  front  door  was  opened  by  some  one  who  had  a 
latch-key,  and  a  voice  that  thrilled  every  fiber  of  her 
being  addressed  some  question  to  a  servant  passing 
through  the  corridor. 

"Here  is  my  son  coming  at  last!"  exclaimed  the  | 
;old  lady,  in  pleased  eagerness. 

ft Jack—Jack,  my  dear!"  she  called;  "I  am  in  the 
drawing-room.  Step  in  a  moment,  niy  son ;"  and  be 
fore  Dorothy  could  collect  her  scattered  senses  the 
'portieres  were  parted  by  a  strong,  white  hand,  and 
Jack  Garner  stood  on  the  threshold. 

Ah !  how  changed  he  was  in  those  few  short  montHs ! 
The  boyish  expression  had  vanished.  He  looked 
older,  more  care-worn.  The  fair,  handsome  face  was 
graver;  the  blue  e,yes  were  surely  more  thoughtful. 


PRETTY  MADCAP   DOROTHY  18?} 

Even  his  fair  chestnut  hair  seemed  to  have  taken  on 
a  deeper,  more  golden  hue. 

He  crossed  the  room,  bent  over  his  mother,  and 
kissed  her. 

"This  is  my  son — Mrs,  Brown,  Mr.  Garner,"  said 
the  old  lady,  her  voice  lingering  over  the  words  with 
pardonable  pride. 

It  was  a  terrible  moment  for  Dorothy. 

Would  Jack  know  her?  Would  not  those  keen, 
grave,  searching  eyes  penetrate  her  disguise? 

He  gave  but  a  casual  glance  to  the  small,  slim  figure 
clad  in  black,  and  bowed  courteously,  then  turned 
away. 

The  greatest  ordeal  of  her  life  was  past. 

She  had  met  Jack — Jack  who  had  loved  her  so— • 
face  to  face,  and  he  had  not  recognized  her. 

She  rallied  from  her  confused  thoughts  by  a  great 
effort,  for  Mrs.  Garner  was  speaking  to  her. 

"I  was  sayi:ig,  that  as  we  seem  mutually  pleased 
with  each  other,  we  may  as  well  consider  the  arrange 
ment  as  settled  between  us." 

Dorothy  bowed.  She  could  not  utter  a  word  in  pro 
test  to  save  her  life,  although  she  had  quite  made  up 
her  mind  not  to  remain  under  that  roof. 

"Your  duties  will  be  light,  and  I  feel  sure  you  will 
i  find  ours  a  pleasant  home.  I  will  ring-  for  one  of  the 
'  servants  to  show  you  to  your  room;"  and  .suiting  the 
action  to  the  word,  she  touched  the  bell,  and  £n  in 
stant  later  a  neat  little  maid  appeared,. who  couriered 
2nd  asked  Dorothy  to  follow  her. 

"Madame  will  find  her  little  child  has  already  been 
taken  to  her  apartments,'-'  said  the  girl,  open  in  g  i--e 
4oor  at  the  further  end  of  the  upper  corridor. 


PRETTY  MADCAP  DOROTHY 

Yes,  little  Pearl  was  there,  cooing  with  delight  at  her 
new  surroundings,  and  over  the  cup  of  hot  milk  and 
crackers  on  the  little  stand  close  beside  her. 

The  girl  rose  hastily  as  Dorothy  entered,  set  down 
the  child,  and  quitted  the  apartment. 

Upon  finding  herself  alone  with  Pearl,  Dorothy 
snatched  the  child  up  in  her  arms,  sank  clown  in  the 
depths  of  a  great  easy-chair,  and  sobbed  as  though 
her  heart  would  break. 

"Oh,  little  Pearl!  how  I  wish  that  we  had  never 
come  here!"  she  moaned.  "It  makes  me  feel  so  sad." 

The  babv's  blue  eyes  looked  up  into  her  own  in 
wonder,  but  her  soft  cooing  and  the  clasp  of  her  little 
soft,  warm  fingers  could  not  comfort  Dorothy. 

After  luncheon  she  was  called  into  Mrs.  Garner's 
room. 

"I  arn  not  feeling  well,"  she  said,  motioning  Doro 
thy  to  a  seat.  "I  should  like  you  to  read  to  me  until 
I  fall  asleep.  Take  any  of  the  books  from  the  book 
case  in  the  library.  I  have  no  choice." 

The  silent  little  figure  in  black  bowed,  and  glided  out 
of  the  room. 

It  was  dusk  in  the  library  as  she  entered  it,  and 
while  she  pondered  as  to  whether  she  should  call  some 
one  to  light  the  gas,  to  enable  her  to  read  the  titles 
on  the  volumes,  she  heard  Jack's  voice. 

But  instead  of  passing,  he  entered,  and  proceeded 
to  light  the  gas.  With  a  beating  heart  Dorothy  drew 
still  further  back,  and  at  that  moment  another  person 
entered  the  room. 

"I  knew  I  should  find  you  here,  Jack,"  said  a  voice 
that  sounded  terribly  familiar  to  the  figure  in  the  win 
dow  hidden  by  the  silken  draperies.  "I  have  coiwe 


PRETTY  *TJ£>C:;P   DOROTHY  189 

to  ask  a  little  favor  of  you.  I  hope  you  will  not  find 
it  in  >our  heart  to  refuse  me." 

Before  the  last  comer  in  the  room  had  ceased  speak 
ing,  Dorothy  knew  who  it  was — Jessie  Staples! 

A  great  lump  rose  in  her  throat,  and  her  heart  beat 
She  knew  that  she  should  have  slipped  from  her  place 
of  concealment  and  quitted  the  room,  but  she  seemed 
to  have  been  held  spell-bound  by  a  power  she  could 
not  control.  She  leaned  heavily  against  the  wall  and 
listened  with  painful  intensity  to  the  conversation  that 
was  taking  place  between  her  old  lover  and  Jessie, 
although  she  knew  that  it  was  wrong  for  her  to  do 

8O. 

"A  favor  you  would  ask  of  me?"  repeated  Jncsr, 
quickly.  "Why,  consider  it  granted  beforehand,"  he 
returned,  "if  it  is  within  my  power." 

"You  are  more  than  kind,"  murmured  Jessie, 
adding:  "The  fact  is,  I  have  too  painful  a  headache 
to  attend  the  opera  with  you  to-night,  but  I  want  you 
to  go  and  enjoy  yourself,  and  take  some  your.gf  girl 
in  my  place.  I — I  do  not  want  to  mar  your  happiness 
lor  this  evening." 

"I  am  quite  sorry  to  seem  unkind,"  he  returned, 
"but  really,  Jessie,  I  beg  that  you  will  not  ask  me  to 
take  any  one  else  to  the  opera,  if  you  can  not  go. 
Although  I  promised  beforehand,  I  trust  you  will  not 
hold  me  to  anything  like  that.  I  do  not  feel  inclined 
to  entertain  any  of  your  friends  this  evening,  especially 
when  you  are  not  present.  But,  really,  Jessie,  I  think 
it  might  do  you  good  to  go — the  lights,  and  the  music, 
and  the  gay  throng,  might  divert  your  thoughts  from 
yourself,  and  act  as  a  wonderful  panacea  in  banishing 
your  headache.'^ 


190  PRETTY   MADCAP  DOROTHY 

!!  "No — no!"  returned  Jessie ;  "believe  me,  I  shall  feel 
much  better  at  home.  But  you  must  go.  I  could  not 
forgive  myself  if  I  were  to  be  the  cause  of  your  losing 
one  hour  of  happiness,  and  I  know,  Jack,  that  you  en 
joy  affairs  of  that  kind  so  much.  Go,  if  only  to  please 
me."  3 

•''If  you  are  sure  that  it  will  please  you,  Jessie,  I  | 
Can   not   withstand   your    entreaties,"    he    returned,  * 
thoughtfully.    "Still,  I  have  the  hope  that  you  may, 
change  your  mind  at  the  eleventh  hour,  and  be  ready, 
to  go  with  me,"  he  added,  laughingly.    "I  have  a  few, 
letters  to  write,  and  will  see  you  after  I  finish  them. 
Remember  it  is  not  every  night  that  one  can  hear 
Patti ;"  and  with  a  few  more  pleasant  words  he  quitted 
the  room. 

For  some  moments  after  he  had  left,  Jessie  Staples 
•  stood  leaning  against  the  mantel,  gazing  thoughtfully 
into  the  fire;  then  she  was  startled  by  a  step  close 
beside  her. 

She  turned  her  head  suddenly  and  saw  a  dark  figure 
just  leaving  the  room. 

"Stay!"  she  called  out;  and  the  figure  hesitated  on 
the  threshold.  "Come  here!"  and  the  dark-robed  fig 
ure  advanced  slowly  and  stood  before  her.  "You  are 
Mrs.  Brown,  the  new  companion  ?"  she  said,  interroga 
tively. 

"Yes,"  murmured  a  stifled  voice. 

"May  I  ask  how  long  you  have  been  standing  in 
the  room  ?"  Miss  Staples  inquired,  rather  curiously. 
"  I  did  not  see  you  come  in." 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  came  the  faint  answer.  "I 
entered  a  few  moments  before  you  did,  and  when 
the  gentleman  entered  and  you  commenced  speaking. 


PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY  191 

J—=X  hardly  knew  how  to  make  my  presence  known, 
the  conversation  was  so  personal.  I  tried  to  make  my 
escape  from  the  room  as  soon  as  it  was  possible.  Id 
— \  hope  you  are  not  angry  with  me." 

"No,"  said  Miss  Staples,  slowly.  "I  am.  sure  the 
facts  are  as  you  stated  them.  Yon  may  resume  your 
duties.  That  is  all  I  wish  to  say,"  said  Miss  Staples. 

Still  the  slight  figure  hesitated. 

Poor  Dorothy,  how  she  longed  to  fling  herself  in 
Jessie's  arms  and  cry  out: 

"Oh,  Jessie,  Jessie!  don't  you  know  me?  I  am 
Dorothy — your  poor  little  friend  Dorothy  whom  you 
used  to  love  so  dearly  in  the  old  days." 

Still  she  dared  not;  no,  she  dared  not  betray  her 
identity.  And  with  one  lingering  glance  she  turned 
and  slowly  left  the  library,  holding,  tightly  clutched  in 
her  hand,  one  of  the  volumes  from  the  great  book 
case. 

She  had  caught  up  the  first  one  which  she  laid  her 
hand  on. 

"You  have  been  gone  some  time,  Mrs.  Brown/* 
said  Mrs.  Garner,  fretfully,  as  she  entered  the  boudoir. 
**Let  me  see  your  selection.  What  book  have  you 
|  brought  rne?  Why,  as  I  live,  it  is  the  dictionary!"  she 
exclaimed,  in  a  most  astonished  voice.  "Did  you  think 
'I  had  need  of  that?" 

The  old  lady  flushed  painfully.  It  was  well  known 
that  it  was  cne  of  her  weak  points  to  guard  carefully; 
from  the  world  that  she  had  no  education  whatever. 

She  would  rather  have  died  than  to  have  let  people 
know  that  she  had  at  one  time  been  a  poor  working- 
woman  ;  and  now  this  stranger,  who  had  been  only  a 
few  hours  beneath  her  roof,  had  discovered  i*. 


192  PRETTY  MADCAP  DOROTHY, 

She  did  not  know  what  remark  to  make  to  Mrs. 
[Brown,  she  was  so  aghast  when  the  dictionary;  was 
(handed  her. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

"You  have    made    a  very    wise    selection,    Mrs,  I. 
[Brown,"  she  said.    "I  quite  agree  with  you  that  thera 
is  no  book  more  instructive  than  the  dictionary.    You 
may  read  me  twenty  pages,  or  such  a  matter.    I  deem 
it  very  instructive,  indeed — to  you." 

With  a  gasp,  Dorothy  took  the  book.  Oh,  how 
tedious  it  was,  pronouncing  word  after  word,  and  giv 
ing  their  definitions ! 

Every  now  and  then  Mrs.  Garner  would  nod  her 
Cfiead,  remarking  that  such  and  such  a  word  it  would 
"be  well  for  her  to  take  extra  pains  to  remember,  as 
they  were  in  such  general  use  in  every-day  conversa 
tion. 

At  length  she  ceased  to  make  remarks  altogether, 
and  when  Dorothy  glanced  up  at  her  through  the  blue 
glasses  which  she  wore,  she  found  that  the  old  lady  [ 
was  fast  asleep,  and  with  a  very  tired  look  on  her  face.  I 

Dorothy  laid  down  the  book  with  a  sigh,  crossed  hei; 
thin  little  white  hands  in  her  lap,  and  gave  herself  up 
to  conflicting  thoughts. 

Only  a  little  while  before  Jack  had  loved  her  so  de 
votedly,  and  now  he  was  about  to  marry  Jessie,  her 
friend  of  other  days,  whom  he  scarcely  noticed  when 
she  was  only  Dorothy's 


PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY  I9S 

While  she  was  meditating  over  the  matter,  one  of 
the  maids  put  her  head  in  at  the  door. 

"If  you  please,    Mrs.    Brown,    would   you    mind 
coming  to  Miss  Staples  a  few  moments  ?"  she  asked* ' 
"Her  maid  has  leave  of  absence  this  week,  and  she 
misses  her  services." 

"I  will  go  with  pleasure/'"  said  Dorothy,  rising  and 
following  her  at  once.  j 

As  she  entered  the  pretty  blue-and-gold  boudoir* 
she  saw  that  Jessie  had  changed  her  mind  about  going' 
to  the  opera  that  evening,  for  she  was  already  dressed 
in  opera  attire. 

"You  wished  to  see  rne?"  said  Dorothy,  in  a  husky; 
voice. 

"If  you  please,  Mrs.  Brown,"  said  Jessie.  "I 
should  like  you  to  accompany  Mr.  Garner  and  my* 
self  to  the  opera  to-night,  as  my  maid — that  is,  if 
Jack's  mother  has  no  objection,  of  course." 

She  did  not  catch  the  murmured  words  her  com 
panion  uttered. 

"There  are  a  few  little  finishing  touches  to  my  toilet 
Which  I  v/ould  like  to  have  you  help  me  with.  In  that 
[Velvet  case  on  the  center-table  you  will  find  a  necklace 
©f  sapphires  and  diamonds.  You  may  fetch  it  to  me." . 

sWith  trembling  hands  Dorothy  clasped  the  necklace 
around  Miss  Staples*  firm  white  throat. 

"They  are  very  beautiful — don't  you  think  so?"  she 
asked,  looking  at  Dorothy  with  the  old-time  burst  of 
enthusiasm  which  she  remembered  so  well.  t 

"Yes,"  returned  Dorothy,  in  a  low  voice. 

"They  are  Mr.  Garner's  gift  to  rne.  To-day  is  my, 
birthday,"  she  went  on,  "and  this  is  Mr.  Gamer's  gift 
—Beautiful,  is  it  not?" 


PRETTY  MADCAP  DOROTHY 

,"  said  Dorothy,  in  the  same  low,  wistful  voice. 

aHe  is  so  considerate  of  my  wishes;  I  had  merely 
expressed  the  words  that  I  admired  sapphires  and  dia~ 
monds,  and  see!  he  has  presented  me  with  this  lovely; 
set!"  ;[ 

"The  gentleman  must  have  a  very  generous  heart,'*  • 
said  Dorothy,  faintly.  -;| 

Jessie  Staples  started  and  looked  at  her  searchingly«  * 

"iDo  ^ou  know  that  your  voice  reminds  me  of  the 
voice  of  a  young  girl  whom  I  once  knew  and  loved 
clearly  ?"  she  said,  huskily.  ;; 

Oh,  how  those  words  thrilled  every  Fiber  of  Doro 
thy's  being! 

"She  was  a  very  fair  young  girl,"  continued  Jes* 
sie,  thoughtfully,  "but  she  went  astray." 

The  bracelet  that  Dorothy  was  holding  fell  to  the 
floor  with  a  crash. 

"Oh,  I — I  must  have  broken  it!"  she  sobbed. 

"Never  mind,"  said  Miss  Staples;  "you  could  noi; 
help  it.  Accidents  are  liable  to  happen  at  any  time.  It! 
is  not  past  mending,  I  am  sure.  Do  not  allow  it  to 
trouble  you."  '  i. 

She  quite  believed  that  Mrs.  Brown  was  a  trifle 
iawkward — probably  a  little  nervous,  and  she  did  he*! ' 
best  to  reassure  her.  f jl 

"You  must  not  feel  badly  about  it,"  she  repeated 
kindly.  "I,  too,  am  nervous  sometimes.  Why,  onl$ 
fo^aight  I  dropped  my  cup  of  chocolate,  breaking  tfie 
cuprihto  bits,  my  hands  were  so  nervous.  I  had  sucfl 
a.Headache  all  day,  that  I  did  not  feel  able  to  go  down 
to  the  table.  Even  now  I  am  by  no  means  free  from 
the  terrible  pain  in  my  head.  We  shall  leave  the  operg 


PRETTY  MADCAP  DOROTHY  193 

h 
early,"  $he  went  on,  adding:  "No  doubt  you  are 

pleased  to  hear  that" 

h    "It  does  not  matter  much  to  me,  madame,"  came 

^  the  faint  reply. 

"The  carriage  will  be  here  in  half  an  hour.    I  trust 

I  you  will  be  ready,  Mrs.  Brown.  Please  have  my  wraps 
in  readiness  then.  One  of  the  maids  \vill  tell  you 
;where  to  find  them.  You  will  not  have  much  time  to 
get  your  own  wraps." 

*  At  the  hour  named.  Dorothy  stood  ready,  and  a 
!few  minutes  later  Mr.  Garner  appeared  in  the  cor 
ridor. 

I  Taking  Jessie's  arm,  he  led  her  down  to  the  car 
nage,  seated  her,  helped  in  the  little  dark  figure,  and 
then  proceeded  carefully  to  tuck  Jessie  in  with  all  the 
jfobes. 

j  They  were  only  ordinary  attentions  bestowed  upon 
her  companion,  but  they  rankled  deeply,  like  the  thrust 
of  a  sharp  sword,  in  the  heart  of  the  girl  who  sat  there 
Witnessing  it  all. 

\k   They  talked  upon  indifferent  subjects,  but  it  seemed 
(to  Dorothy  that  every  word  held  a  double  meaning. 
.a  •    Oh,  how  solicitous  he  was  for  her  comfort!  how  he 
gathered  the  wraps  about  her,  anxiously  inquiring  if 
she  felt  the  cold  air!  how  low  and  tender  his  words 
Beemed  to  the  girl  sitting  opposite  them,  and  botH 
-Seemed  entirely  oblivious  to  her  presence. 
r   The  curtain  was  tip  when  they  reached  their  box, 
fmt  all  through  the  opera  the  little  dark  figure  who 
i&rank  back  behind  the  silken  hangings  saw  nothing; 
fieard  nothing;  she  was  watching  so  intently  the  old 
lover  who  was  so  near,  and  yet,  alas  1  so  far  from  her.  | 
to  the  old  days  she  had  loved  Bessie  Staples,  but 


H96  PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY 

V, 

now,  as  she  saw  her  old  friend  and  Jack  Garner  all 
in  all  to  each  other,  she  grew  in  a  single  hour  to  almost 
fiate  her  for  usurping  her  place  in  his  heart, 

True,  there  was  not  the  same  devotion  that  he  had 
been  wont  to  pay  her;  but  then,  Jack  was  older  now. 
and  graver.  How  he  had  come  by  this  sudden  wealth 
puzzled  her.  Then,  by  degrees  it  all  came  back  to  her 
— how  he  used  to  say  that  some  day  there  v/as  a  bare 
possibility  of  his  being  wealthy-— that  lie  had  some  ex 
pectations  from  a  distant  relative.  Surely  those  ex 
pectations  must  have  been  realized,  or  he  could  not  be 
in  the  position  which  he  was  now  enjoying.  How 
strange  that  the  Garners  had  lifted  Jessie  Staples  out 
of  the  old  life,  and  that  she  now  was  Jack's  betrothed 
bride.  Anc!  she  wondered  vaguely  if  he  had  forgotten 
the  Dorothy  lie  had  loved  so  well. 
:l  Suddenly  he  turned  toward  her,  and  at  that  mo 
ment  Jessie  rose  hastily  to  her  feet. 
«'  "We  will  get  home  as  quickly  as  possible,"  he  said, 
hurriedly.  "Miss  Staples  is  indisposed." 
I  Jessie  leaned  heavily  on  his  arm,  and  they  wenfi 
jqukkly  out  of  the  building  and  into  the  carriage. 

All  the  way  home  his  arm  supported  her,  and  her 
Head  leaned  helplessly  on  his  shoulder. 
?     Dorothy  followed  with  her  wraps  up  to  Miss  Staple's 
fyoudoir. 

•'•     "Thank  you — that  will  do,"  she  said,  wearily,  dis 
missing  her  at  her  door,  and  Dorothy  turned  away. 
\-     One  of  the  maids  had  rocked  little  Pearl  to  sleepy 
and  the  babe  lay  slumbering  quietly  in  her  crib. 

Dorothy  did  not  go  toward  it,  as  was  her  wont  upon 
Centering  her  room  at  night — indeed,  she  had  forgotten 


PRETTY   MADCAP  DOROTHY  197 

about  the  child  until  she  heard  her  cough,  a  little  later 
on. 

She  was  just  about  to  cross  the  room  to  the  little 
one,  when  one  of  the  maids  came  hurriedly  to  her 
door.  '  * 

"Would  you  mind  sitting  up  with  Miss  Staples?" 
she  cried,  breathlessly;  "she  is  anything  but  well.  It 
looks  to  me  as  though  she  has  a  fever,  but  she  will 
not  hear  to  having  a  doctor  called,  or  even  of  letting 
Mrs.  Garner  know  how  ill  she  is.  She  declares  that, 
with  a  good  night's  rest,  she  will  be  all  right  in  the 
morning." 

Dorothy  went  hastily  to  Jessie  Staples'  room,  while 
the  girl  remained  to  take  charge  of  the  child  for  the 
night. 

She  found  Jessie  as  the  maid  had  declared — quite 
ill  and  feverish-looking,  but  still  wearing  the  soft 
chiffon  dress  she  had  worn  at  the  opera,  with  the 
sapphire  necklace  gleaming  on  her  white  throat,  and 
bracelets  shining  on  her  polished  arms. 

Dorothy  went  quickly  up  to  her. 

*'You  must  let  me  remove  these  things,  and  get  you 
fcito  t)fd  at  once,"  she  said  coaxingly  but  firmly. 
**Your  fare  is  scarlet,  and  your  hands  tremble.  You 
must  take  some  hot  lemonade,  and  go  quietly  to  sleep.1* 

Jessie  was  cu.'te  passive  under  her  commands,  but 
the  pain  in  her  heac?  did  not  seem  to  abate. 

For  long  hours,  Dorothy  worked  patiently  with  her 
to  allay  the  fever,  but  it  seemed  to  increase  with 
moment 

She  wanted  to  arouse  the  household,  and  send  £0* 
doctor,  but  Jessie  pleaded  most  pitifully. 


198  PRETTY  MADCAP  DOROTHY 

rtYou  are  very,  very  ill,"  cried  Dorothy,  in 
WI  must  send  for  some  one,  or  you  will  die!" 

"Hush!     I  want  to  diel"  cried  Jessie,  in  a 
whisper;  "that  is  just  it;  I  do  not  want  to  live." 

Dorothy  tried  to  soothe  her,  thinking  it  was  but  the 
idle  vagaries  of  a  wandering  mind. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

"Hush!"  cried  Jessie,  sinking  back  on  her  pillow, 
and  clutching  frantically  the  hand  that  held  hers. 
"You  must  not  call  any  one.  I  want  to  die!  I  am  so 
tired  of  living.  I  want  to  tell  you  my  story,  Mrs. 
Brown — it  seems  to  me  that  I  shall  go  wild  if  I  do  not 
tell  some  one ;  and  you  seem  so  sympathetic  and  kind. 
May  I  trust  you  ?"  she  whispered,  with  a  great  tremor 
in  her  voice. 

"Yes,r?  said  Dorothy,  slowly:  "anything  that  you1 
rnay  say  to  me  I  will  hold  sacred." 

"You  are  very  good,"  returned  the  other.  "Yotl 
would  think,"  she  began,  quickly,  "that  with  wealth', 
and  being  the  fiancee  of  a  noble  young  man  like  Mr. 
Garner,  and  so  soon  to  marry  him,  that  I  was  the  hap 
piest  girl  in  the  world." 

"Yes,"  returned  the  other,  choking  back  a  sob. 

"I  was  not  always  surrounded  by  wealth  and  af 
fluence,  as  you  see  me  now,"  commenced  Jessie  Staples, 
burying  her  head  in  her  pillow.  "Only  a  few  short 
months  ago  I  was  poorer  than  you  are  now,  and 
worked  for  my  daily  bread.  Among  the  companions 


PRETTY   MADCAP  DOROTHY 

stood  side  by  side  with  me  was  one,  a  lovely  girl 
svhom  I  loved  with  all  my  heart.  , 

:      "She  was  gay  and  thoughtless,  the  life  of  the -work 
room,   with  her  bright,  girlish,  mischievous  pranks. 
I  Though  they  called  her  'Madcap  Dorothy/  yet  every 
J j  lone  loved  her  for  her  bright,  winning  ways. 
v      "There  was  one  employed  in  the  same  place  whom  I 
t  had  loved  ever  since  I  could  remember — loved  in  secret, 
I;  making  no  sign,   for   it  was  hopeless — as  he   loved 
J  pretty  Madcap  Dorothy,  and  loved  her  with  all  the 
Strength  of  his  great,  noble,  manly  heart. 
!     "I  was  her  best  friend,  even  though  she  was  in 
secret  my  rival.     I  did  not  care  for  myself.     I  only 
wanted  to  see  the  two  whom  I  loved  so  well  happy. 
One  of  them  was  Jack  Garner,  and  the  other  Dorothy ; 
and  I  will  tell  you  of  her." 

i  "She  was  young,  and  gay,  and  pretty,  as  I  have  said, 
and  she  knew  it.  She  knew  that  she  had  all  of  Jack's 
heart,  but  she  longed  for  more  heroes  to  conquer. 

"One  fatal  day— oh,  how  well  I  remember  it! — she 
fell  in  love  with  a  handsome,  black-eyed  stranger — a 
car  conductor  on  Broadway.  That  was  the  beginning 
of  the  end  for  Jack,  who  loved  her  so.  One  fatal  day 
she  ran  away  with  the  stranger  and  was  never  heard 
of  again. 

\     "Rumor  has  it  that  later  on  he  tired  of  her,  and  \vas 

'  soon  to  lead  to  the  altar  a  proud  and  lovely  young  girl 

—a  school-girl — who  had  never  known  wHat  it  was 

to  earn  her  bread,  as  did  poor,  pretty  Madcap  Dorothy. 

f      "Dorothy's  desertion  nearly  cost  Jack  Garner  his 

life.     I  went  and  nursed  him  and  took  care  of  him; 

and  when  he  recovered,  his  mother  was  stricken  low, 

ana  r  in  turn  nursed  hsr. 


200  PRETTY  MADCAP  DOROTHY 

t  "In  the  darkest  hour  of  that  terrible  illness,  when 
;we  were  all  gathered  about  her  bedside,  waiting  for 
the  angel  of  death  to  stoop  and  bear  her  away  to  that 
bright  land  that  knows  no  grief  nor  partings,  suddenly; 
she  beckoned  Jack  near  her* 

;  "  'Oh,  mother,  is  there  anything  that  you  wish  ?'  he 
cried.  'Anything  that  I  can  do  for  you?  Tell  me  if 
there  is.' 

;  "  'Yes/  she  whispered,  'there  is  one  thing  you 
could  do,  my  son,  that  would  make  death  easier  to  me. 
'I — I  could  die  happy  if  you  would  do  as  I  ask/ 

"  'I  promise  you  beforehand,  mother/  he  cried,  'if 
there  is  anything  which  I  can  do,  it  shall  be  done.' 

"Feebly  her  hand  crept  toward  mine  and  drew  it 
toward  Jack's,  clasping  them  both  together. 

'  'She  has  saved  your  life,  my  boy/  she  whispered, 
"and  she  has  been  as  faithful  as  an  angel  to  me — unto 
the  last  of  mine.  If  you  care  for  your  mother's 
wishes,  ask  her  to  marry  you,  here  and  now.  I  love 
'her  as  dearly  as  my  life,  Jack.  My  one  wish  in  this 
iworld  is  to  see  you  wedded  to  each  other.  You  must 
say  "Yes"  or  "No."' 

"He  buried  his  head  in  his  hands,  and  I  could  see 
his  stalwart  form  shake  like  a  reed  in  a,  blast. 
i     "He  hesitated,  but  only  for  an  instant.     Slowly  he 
raised  his  head,  and  I  could  see  that  his  face  was  as 
.  white  as  death,  in  the  dim-shaded  light  of  the  lamp. 
Then  slowly  he  stretched  out  his  hand  toward  me. 

"  'You  know  of  my  past,  Jessie/  he  .caid,  huskily, 
'and  you  know  that  my  life-hopes  were  blasted.  Will 
you  take  me  under  these  conditions — if  not  for  my 
sake,  for — for  my  mother's  ?' 


PRETTY   MADCAP   DO  ROTH  V  201 

"I  could  not  tell  you  the  emotions  that  swept 
through  my  heart  in  that  one  moment  of  time. 

"I  do  not  know  in  what  words  I  answered  him ;  but, 
even  without  scarcely  realizing  what  I  did,  my  hand 
crept  into  his  strong,  cold  one,  and  I  nodded  my  head. 
j 1  could  not  have  spoken  to  have  saved  my  life— my 
i  heart  was  too  full  for  utterance, 
j     "Mrs.  Garner  did  not  die  that  night,  and  she  has 
J  always  said  ever  since  that  she  believed  that  promise 
brought  her  back  from  the  gates  of  death  to  be  a 
Jiving  witness  to  our  happiness. 

"Three  months  passed,  with,  oh!  such  unspeakable 
joy  for  me.  My  lover  was  all  that  a  lover  could  be ; 
still,  there  were  times  when  I  thought  Jack's  heart  was 
not  in  his  words,  but  was.  far  away  with  the  girl  who 
had  so  cruelly  jilted  him. 

"At  length  the  wedding  invitations  were  printed 
and  sent  out,  and  only  a  week  later  the  terrible  de 
nouement  came  that  has  shattered  all  my  hopes. 

"I  was  about  to  enter  Mrs.  Garner's  boudoir  one 
night,  when  I  heard  the  sound  of  voices. 

"Playfully  I  drew  back,  for  I  had  recognized  Jack's 
\  voice.    I  had  a  little  gift  for  him,  and  I  was  hesitating 
j  a  moment  as  to  whether  I  should  take  it  in  and  lay  it 
|  on  his  lap,  or  wait  until  the  next  morning  and  give  it 
!  to  him  in  the  library.    Jack  was  pacing  up  and  down, 
land  I  saw  through  the  door,  which  was  slightly  ajar, 
that  his  face  was  very  pale  and  stormy — and  this  was 
something  unusual  with  calm,  placid,  courteous  Jack. 
"  'For    Heaven's    sake,   don't   nag  me    any   more, 
mother/  he  cried,  'or  you  will  drive  me  mad!    Con 
stant  dripping  will  in  time  wear  out  even  a  stone.     I 
iiave  ruined  my  life  to  satisfy  ene  of  your  whims; 


'{202  PRETTY  MADCAP  DOROTHY 

'  surely  that  ought  to  suffice.  If  I  can't  have  peace  in 
the  house,  I  will  take  my  hat  and  walk  out  of  it.  I 
can  not  endure  this  eternal  nagging,  that  I  must  treat 
[Jessie  better— more  as  becomes  a  betrothed  lover. 

;  [You  know  very  well  that  I  do  not  lave  her.    My  mar-  \ 

;  ¥ iage  with  her  will  be  all  your  doing.    My  heart  is  • 

I  torith  Dorothy ;  and  when  a  man  loves  as  I  loved  her, 
even  if  that  love  is  destroyed,  no  one  can  ever  fill  the 
same  niche  in  his  affections.  It  is  an  impossibility. 
So,  have  done  with  this  subject,  mother,  at  once  and 
forever. 

b  "  'I  shall  marry  Jessie,  because  I  am  pledged  to  do 
so.  I  will  make  her  life  as  happy  as  I  can.  She  need 
never  know  that  my  heart  is  not  hers,  although  she 
torill  bear  my  name/ 

"I — I— never  knew  how  I  groped  my  way  into  an 
adjoining  room,"  continued  Jessie,  "and  there  I  sank 
jflown  unconscious. 

"How  long  I  remained  there  I  never  knew.  When 
I  came  to,  Mrs.  Garner,  greatly  frightened,  was  kneel 
ing  beside  me  and  laving  my  face  with  eau-de-Cologne. 

^:  "And  I  knew  by  the  fearful  lock  in  her  eyes  that  she 
suspected  that  I  had  found  out  about  Jack  net  caring 
if  or  me. 

"  Tell  me  what  is  the  matter,  rny  little  Jessie  P  she  \ 

;  said,  clasping  me  in  her  arms  and  pillowing  my  head  \ 

;  on  her  breast. 

"In  broken  gasps  I  told  her,  adding  that  I  was  going 
away — back  to  the  poverty  from  which  they  had  taken 
me,  and  Jack  should  never  see  my  face  again.  Oh! 
tow  she  prayed  and  pleaded  with  me  on  her  bended 
knees,  crying  out : 
*  'If  you  love  me,  Jessie,  do  not  break  from  Jack. 


PRETTY  MADCAP  DOROTHY  203 

I  am  sure  he  did  not  mean  all  he  said.  He  was  onljj 
incensed  a  little  at  me.  He  would  not  have  you  know! 
it  for  the  whole  wide  world.  Oh,  believe  me,  Jessie  I 
Do  not  try  to  break  my  heart  by  your  rash  action. 
The  marriage  invitations  have  gone  forth.  What 
could  we  say  to  the  people?  Think  of  the  scanda!| 
Jessie,  and  save  us  from  it.  Let  my  words  be  $ 
prayer  to  you.  I  am  older  than  you  are,  Jessie.  LeU 
me  tell  you  how  this  will  be :  J-j 

"  There  might  be  in  his  heart  only  deep  respect  fotj 
you,  but  when  he  marries  you,  he  will  learn  to  lova 
you.  Every  man  loves  his  wife/  0 

"Against  my  own  will  and  my  better  judgment,  1 
allowed  her  to  persuade  me.  1 ! 

"I  made  no  mention  to  Jack  of  what  I  had  learned, 
but  every  day  it  has  eaten  into  my  heart  like  a  worm 
in  the  heart  of  a  rose.  l«  • 

"I  loved  him  so  well,  I  was  only  too  willing  to  hold 
to  him.  I  did  not  have  the  strength  to  follow  the  die* 
tates  of  my  own  will ;  and  now,  God  help  me !  the  da$ 
is  drawing  nearer  and  nearer.  What  shall  I  do?  ! 
"My  brain  is  going  mad  with  the  torturous  thought! 
that  I  shall  stand  at  the  altar  by  the  side  of  a  mart 
who  does  not  love  me — whose  heart  is  given  taj 
another.  ^  '*  •  i 

"Ever)r  time  that  he  stoops  to  kiss  my  lips  I  am  sura 
he  wishes  they  were  hers.  *  , 

"His  thoughts  are  with  her.  I  am  a  mere  shadow] 
to  his  life ;  she  was  the  substance.  '< 

"People  about  me  look  upon  me  with"  envy,  but  you 
can  realize  that  I  am  more  to  be  pitied  than  th's 
poorest  beggar  on  the  street.  Tell  me,"  she 


204  PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY 

eagerly,  "do  you  think  any  one  on  this  earth  ever  had 
a  sorrow  equal  to  mine?" 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 


As  the  hours  wore  on,  poor  Jessie  Staples  grew  so 
alarmingly  worse,  and  the  fever  increased  so  rapidly, 
that,  despite  her  entreaties,  Dorothy  felt  that  she  must 
summon  medical  aid. 

Soon  after  the  entire  household  had  gathered  about 
Jessie,  in  the  greatest  alarm. 

A  physician  was  sent  for  at  once — Doctor  Crandall, 
whom  Mrs.  Garner  had  known  for  long  years. 

It  so  happened  that  the  doctor  lay  very  ill  himself 
fiom  an  attack  of  la  grippe,  and,  penning  a  line  or  sa 
to  Mrs.  Garner,  he  explained  that  he  had  sent  as  a 
substitute  a  young  doctor  whom  he  had  taken  into  his 
office  to  act  for  him  during  his  illness.  He  felt  sure 
they  could  rest  Miss  Staples'  case  with  all  safety  in  hit 
hands. 

That  was  the  beginning  of  the  terrible  end. 

Surely  a  cruel  fate  must  have  brought  the  situation 
about.  It  happened  in  this  way: 

When  Harry  Kendal  had  exerted  every  means  to 
find  Dorothy,  and  had  failed,  he  commenced  to  loolc 
about  for  something  to  do. 

It  occurred  to  him  that  perhaps  the  best  person  to 
whom  he  could  apply  was  Doctor  Crandall,  who  had 
been  the  life-long  friend  of  his  old  benefactor,  Doctor 
(Bryan. 

Kendal's  appeal  was  not  in  vain.    He  was  taken  in 


PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY  205 

at  once.    Indeed,  his  coming  was  most  opportune,  he 
svas  told. 

It  so  happened  that  his  very  first  call  was  to  the 
home  of  Mrs.  Garner. 

"Garner!"  The  name  sounded  very  familiar  ta 
him.  His  brow  darkened  as  he  heard  it.  Was  n'0t 
that  the  name  of  the  young  man  who  had  been  Doro 
thy  Glenn's  lover  when  he  first  met  little  Dorothy  in 
the  book-bindery?  Of  course,  it  was  absurd  to 
imagine  that  there  could  be  anything  in  common  be 
tween  these  wealthy  Garners  and  that  poor  fellow  wfio 
iworked  hard  at  his  trade.  Still  he  hated  the  name. 
(  When  he  reached  the  mansion  and  was  ushered  into 
the  corridor,  to  his  intense  surprise,  the  first  person 
.whom  he  met  face  to  face  was  Jack  Garner!  He 
•recognized  Jack  at  once;  but  the  light  in  the  corridor 
(was  low,  and,  besides,  he  had  turned  up  his  coat-collar,, 
and  with  the  heavy  beard  he  had  grown,  Garner,  as 
it  was  not  to  be  wondered  at,  did  not  know  him.  Be 
sides,  Jack  had  seen  him  but  twice — once  as  he  was 
putting  Dorothy  into  a  coach,  and  again  on  the  Staten 
'Island  boat,  in  the  dim,  uncertain  moonlight. 

"Your  patient  is  this  way,  doctor,"  he  said,  motion 
ing  him  up  the  broad  stairway. 

A  sudden,  strange  thought  came  to  Kendal :  What 
if  he  should  find  Dorothy  there  ? 

He  no  sooner  entered  the  room  and  uttered  the  first 
word  than  the  slim  figure  in  black,  wearing  the  blue 
glasses,  started  violently,  Dorothy  recognized  him  Pt 
once,  despite  the  heavy  beard. 

"How  in  the  world  came  he  here?"  she  gasped  to 
herself,  in  the  greatest  amazement. 

But  she  had  no  opportunity  to  think  long  over  the 


i  206  PRETTY   MADCAP  DOROTHY 

matter,  for  Jessie  required  the  most  immediate  atten 
tion. 

k  "I  think  it  will  be,  best  to  send  you  a  practical 
nurse,"  he  said,  as  he  took  his  departure.  f 

jr  He  spoke  to  Doctor  Crandall  about  it  immediately 
l?pon  his  return  to  the  office.  j 

j"|.  "There  is  only  one  young  woman  whom  I  can  think 
of  just  at  present,"  said  the  doctor,  "She  is  not  what 
you  might  call  a  trained  nurse,  but  she  claims  to  have 
lhad  a  little  experience.  We  shall  have  to  secure  her 
In  a  case  of  emergency.  I  shall  send  for  her  to-night ; 
phe  will  probably  be  there  in  the  morning  when  you 
Arrive." 

j'^  As  Kendal  ascended  the  steps  of  the  palatial  home 
Df  the  Garners,  he  came  face  to  face  with  a  woman 
iwho  was  standing  in  the  vestibule,  just  in  the  act  of 
(touching  the  bell.  One  glance,  and  he  fairly  reeled 
back. 

[!.-  "Nadine  Holt!"  he  cried,  aghast,  "is  it  you — you?" 

I"-  "We  meet  again  at  last!"  hissed  the  girl,  confront 
ing  him  with  death-white  face.  "I  knew  I  should  find 
you  sooner  or  later,  and  I  have  been  on  your  track." 

jk  "Hush!  hush!  Nadine,"  he.  cried;  "what  do  you 
mean  ?  In  Heaven's  name,  don't  speak  so  loud !  Every 
ipne  is  listening.  You  will  ruin  me." 

(If  "That  is  what  I  intend  to  do !"  ^he  shrieked,  clutch 
ing  frantically  at  his  arm  with  her  long,  thin  fingers. 

i  **You  deserted  me  and  wedded  another." 

i!?    "What  put  such  a  notion  in  your  head,  anyhow, 

I  Nadine?"  he  said,  evasively,  thinking  it  best  to  tem- 
Jvorize  with  the  raging  fury  confronting  him. 
"I  heard  all  about  it,"  she  panted,  hoarsely. 
"Then  some  one  has  been  cruelly  maligning  me,'* 


PRETTY  MADCAP   DOROTHY  2G7) 

fie  cried;  "and  you,  of  all  people  in  the  world,  Nadine, 
should  not  have  believed  it.    Hushl  some  one  is  com 
ing.     I  hear  footsteps.     Meet  me  later.    J  want  id 
\  have  a  long  talk  with  you.    But,  by  the  wayf  what  ara 
;  you  doing  here  at  this  house,  Nadine  ?"  f| 

"Did  I  not  tell  you  that  I  answered  Doctor  CrattV 
Hall's  advertisement  for  a  nurse,  and  that  this  is  11135' 
errand  here?  But  what  are  you  doing  here?"  d 

"I  may  as  well  tell  you  the  truth,  Nadine,"  he  said^! 
despairingly,  seeing  that  it  would  all  come  out  soonec 
or  later.  "I — I  have  been  studying  medicine  since  I 
met  you,  and  they  have  engaged  me  as  physician.  Bufi 
now  that  surprises  are  in  order,  I  suppose  you  knowf 
Who  lives  here  ?" 
,  "No,"  she  answered. 

*'It  is  your  old  friend  Garner,  who  used  to  be  in  tha 
feook-bindery.      He    has   acquired    sudden    wealth—* 
Heaven  knows  how*    His  mother  is  living  with  him, ' 
and  also  that  pretty  girl  whom  I  used  to  think  was  s<* 
guiet — Miss  Staples." 

•Before  Nadine  could  reply,  her  amazement  was  so* 
great,  the  door  was  opened  by  the  quiet  footman,  and 
they  were  ushered  into  the  drawing-room. 

Kendal  had  barely  time  to  whisper  to  Nadine  5 

"These  people  do  not  know  that  I  am  the  same  one 

whom  they  used  to  know  as  the  car  conductor.    Don't 

!  give  me  away,"  ere  the  door  opened,  and  Mrs.  Garnet! 

J  made 'her  appearance.  *l 

"Ah!  you  have  brought  a  nurse  with  you,  "doctor,* 
she  said,  in  a  tone  of  great  relief. 

So  saying,  she  led  the  way  to  the  sick-room. 

'Nadine's  entrance  caused  the  greatest  surprise  t$ 
both  Mr.  Garner  and  Jessie. 


208  PRETTY   MADCAP  DOROTHY. 

,     No  one  thought  of  noticing  the  plain,  dark  little 
figure  half  hidden  by  the  curtains  in  the  bay  window, 
or  they  would  have  seen  Dorothy  start  and  fairly  gasp 
:  for  breath  as  her  eyes  fell  upon  the  nurse  Kendal  had 
brought  'with  him,  and  heard  them  discuss  the  point 
that  Nadine  must  be  installed  there  as  nurse. 
\     Her  brain  fairly  reeled,  and  it  flashed  over  her  mind 
what  a  villain  Kendal  really  was. 
/    She  had  quite  believed  all  this  long  time  that  he  I 
had  parted  from  Nadine  Holt,  and  here  he  had  been 
keeping  up  Nadine's  friendship  clandestinely  through 
it  all.  ,  ! 

v    Of  course  Iris  Vincent  was  expecting  to  marry  him.  ] 

It  was  clear  that  Kendal  had  a  good  many  irons  in 
the  fire. 

She  only  wished  that  Iris  Vincent  knew  of  his 
friendship  for  Nadine.  j 

'  Dorothy  wondered  if  Nadine  would  penetrate  her 
disguise.  I 

Nadine  assumed  her  duties  at  once,  and  the  first 
thing  which  she  did  was  to  order  the  slim  creature 
about,  scarcely  giving  her  a  moment's  rest.  ! 

Nadine  had  always  heard  that  this  was  the  way 
paid  nurses  invariably  did. 

She  took  every  opportunity  to  consult  Doctor  Ken 
dal  and  waylay  him  for  long  chats.  Even  Jessie 
noticed  this,  as  ill  as  she  was;  and  she  noticed,  too, 
that  the  young  doctor  resented  it ;  and  Nadine  herself  } 
was  not  slow  in  perceiving  his  lack  of  interest  in  her- 
self. 

"How  very  interested  you  are  in  your  pretty  white* 
foced  patient;*'  Nadine  said,  on  the  second  day  of  her 
Stay  there.  "I  almost  believe  you  have  fallen  in  love 


PRETTY   MADCAP  DOROTHY  209 

with  Jessie  Staples,  and  mean  to  bring  her  quickly 
'back  to  health,  and — and  marry  her."  i 

Kendal  turned  from  her  with  a  fierce  imprecation, 
and  muttering  something  that  sounded  very  like  "tha 
cursed  jealousy  of  some  women/'  abruptly  quitted  the 
room,  slamming  the  door  after  him.  i 

Then  Nadine  felt  sure  that  she  had  stumbled  upon 
the  terrible  truth. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

Whenever  a  jealous  woman  is  looking  for  some 
thing  with  which  to  feed  the  green-eyed  monster,  she 
usually  finds  it,  or  imagines  she  does,  which  amounts 
to  the  same  thing.  It  was  so  with  Nadine. 

No  one  mentioned  to  Nadine  the  fact  that  Jessie  was 
betrothed  to  Jack  Garner.  Even  had  she  heard  it,  she 
y/ould  not  have  believed  it.  She  would  have  imagined 
that  it  was  a  falsehood  made  up  for  her  benefit. 

She  could  not  endure  the  kindly  looks  he  gave  Jes 
sie,  nor  endure  to  see  him  bend  over  her,  raise  her 
from  her  pillow,  and,  while  one  strong  arm  supported 
her,  coax  her  to  take  her  medicine. 

Such  sights  as  these  were  more  terrible  for  Nadine 
to  endure  than  the  pangs  of  death;  and  for  hours 
afterward  she  would  feel  an  almost  uncontrollable  de 
sire  to  strangle  the  sick  girl. 

In  Nadine's  heart  there  rose  a  mad  wish  that  Jessie 
would  die  before  Harry  Kendal  became  too  fond  of 
her. 

While  Jessie  slept  and  she  was  not  fcuried  in  tKe 


210  PRETTY  MADCAP  DOROTHY 

3epths  of  a  newspaper  to  kill  time,  she  would  be  brood 
ing  Over  this  subject:  If  Jessie  Staples  would  only; 
die! 

One  day,  while  in  this  morbid  mood,  her  eyes  fell 
upon  a  fatal  paragraph  that  riveted  her  attention  with 
breathless  interest. 

It  spoke  of  the  death  of  a  once  noted  court  beauty; 
who  had  been  in  her  time  the  toast  of  all  Europe.  Men 
had  fought  duels  for  her  sake,  and  couriers  thought  it 
a  great  honor  to  risk  life  and  limb  to  do  her  bidding, 
b.eing  repaid  by  only  a  smile  or  one  glance  from  hen 
wine-dark  eyes. 

It  happened  that  while  riding  about  in  her  pony-cart 
she  -had,  by  chance,  one  day  encountered  a  poor  trades* 
man's  son  who  had  stopped  by  a  brook  at  which  her* 
Own  horse  was  slaking  his  thirst,  to  give  his  steed  a 
drink.  \ 

One  glance  at  the  fair,  handsome  Saxon  face,  and 
the  girl  who  had  laughed  to  scorn  full  many  a  lover, 
felt  her  heart  going  from  her  keeping  to  this  bonny; 
stranger,  : 

Although  he  was  poor — only  a  tradesman's  son— 
and  she  had  wealth  untold,  yet  the  beauty  was  not  fair 
in  his  eyes.  j| 

He  passed  her  by  with  only  a  gracious  bow,  as  any  p 
courtier  might,  for  he  was  in  a  hurry  to  reach  the  side  r 
of  his  beloved  Gretchen.     She  was  only  a  peasant 
maid,  but  in  his  eyes  she  was  more  beautiful  than  a  | 
queen, 

He  loved  the  pretty  Gretchen  with  all  his  heart. 

When  my  lady  came  to  inquire  about  him,  and 
learned  he  had  a  pretty  little  sweetheart,  she  grew; 
very  wroth,  but  she  said  never  a  word. 


•f 


PRETTY   MADCAP  DOROTHY  211 

r- 
On  that  day  she  sent  for  Gretchen,  and  employed 

her  as  her  maid.  But  from  that  hour  there  was  a 
change  in  Gretchen's  life. 

*  Slowly  but  surely  she  faded,  although  her  distracted 

•  lover  did  everything  in  his  power  to  prolong  the  life 
of  the  maid  he  loved. 

|  -•  In  the  early  spring-time,  while  robins  sang  and  the 
trees  put  forth  their  blossoms,  he  gazed  his  last  on  all 
that  was  mortal  of  poor  Gretchen. 

»  The  great  lady  tried  her  best  to  comfort  Gretchen's 
lover,  but  he  would  not  be  comforted. 

3*  His  hopes  were  buried  in  Gretchen's  grave,  and  she 
Could  not  turn  his  thoughts  to  herself,  and  ere  the  first 
tnoon  waned,  they  laid  him,  too,  beside  his  Gretchen, 
in  his  last  home. 

jt  The  great  lady  never  smiled  again,  and  soon  after 
the  doors  of  the  convent  closed  upon  one  of  the  most 
beautiful  women  of  her  time. 

£••  On  her  death-bed  she  called  one  and  all  of  those 
about  her  to  listen  to  her  tragic  story. 

She  cried  out  that  they  must  not  touch  her  hand, 
If  or  it  was  stained  with  human  blood ;  and  it  was  then 
that  her  horrible  story  was  brought  to  light. 

And  in  an  awful  whisper,  while  the  long  shadows 
1  Deepened,  she  made  this  terrible  revelation :  that  years 

[  before  she  had  murdered  her  maid,  Gretchen,  because 
the  girl  was  loved  by  him  whom  she  would  have  won* 

1 '  By  night  and  by  day  she  pondered  upon  how  it 
should  be  done,  then  suddenly  the  way  and  means  oc 
curred  to  her. 

'  There  was  a  powerful  drug  of  which  she  had  heard 
that  gave  women  the  most  marvelous  of  complexions, 
Cut  which  sooner  or  later  caused  death. 


'  212  PRETTY   MADCAP   DO  ROTH* 

Gretchen  should  take  it;  it  could  be  placed  in  the 
basin  of  water  in  which  she  was  wont  to  bathe  her  face 
each  morning,  and  it  would  enter  the  body  through  the 
pores  of  the  skin.  In  this  way  the  doctors  would  be 
completely  baffled,  for  they  would  not  be  able  to  trace 
the  poison. 

p     She  put  this  dastardly  plot  into  execution,  and  her 
jcruel  heart  did  not  upbraid  her,  though  she  saw  the 
girl  droop  and  fade  daily  before  her  eyes. 
|<    When  she  looked  out  of  her  window  and  saw  Gret- 
ichen  and  her  lover  pacing  up  and  down  the  primrose? 
path  in  the  moonlight,  a  horrible  laugh  would  break 
ifrom  the  great  lady's  ripe,  red  lips. 
j.     "There  will  be  but  a  few  more  of  these  meetings, 
tender    partings    and    kisses    under    the    larch-tree 
;boughs." 

?f  She  had  never  dreamed,  this  false,  cruel  beauty, 
that  a  man's  heart  could  be  constant  to  a  dead  love  and 
Spurn  a  living  one. 

%    All  these  years  she  had  lived  to  rue  it;  but  neither 
prayers,  nor  suffering,  nor  pangs  of  conscience  could 
iatone  for  the  terrible  crime  committed. 
$    During-  all  the  years  that  had  passed  since  Gretchen 
fiad  been  lying  in  that  lonely  grave,  she  had  never  J 
known  one  moment's  peace  of  mind,  until  this  hour  » 
(when  she  lay  dying  and  had  confessed  all. 
is    Slowly,  twice,  thrice,  Nadine  Holt  read  the  story 
through,  and  as  she  read,  a  terrible  thought  came  into 
iier  own  mind. 

j  Why  could  not  she  procure  this  same  drug  and  ad 
minister  it  in  the  same  way  to  Jessie  Staples  ? 

She  took  the  paper  up  to  her  room  and  hid  it  verjr 
[carefully  in  her  satchel. 


PRETTY  MADCAP  DOROTHY 

True,  Jessie  had  taken  her  in  this  time  without  eay-» 
ing  one  word  of  the  past  unpleasantness,  treating  liec 
.as  though  that  quarrel  had  never  been.  | 

•  But  Nadine  was  different.  She  was  one  of  the 
kind  that  "never  forgets,  never  forgives"  while  lifa 
tests.  rj 

When  the  household  was  wrapped  in  deep  sleep  thafi 
night,  Nadine  stole  out  upon  her  terrible  mission.  ''j 

Several  careful  druggists  refused  to  fill  her  order  * 
but  this  did  not  daunt  her.  She  knew  that  among  the 
lot  she  would  soon  come  across  a  catch-penny,  and  in 
thi-s  supposition  she  was  quite  right.  | 

She  soon  found  a  place,  and  secured  the  deadly  drug 
which  she  called  for,  and  she  stole  into  the  house  again, 
without  any  one  being  the  wiser  for  her  midnight  trip* 

The  light  was  burning  low  in  the  sick-room  as  sfiei 
entered  it,  and  Mrs.  Brown  sat  half  dozing  in  rietf 
chair  by  the  bedside. 

She  started  up  as  Nadine  crossed  the  threshold. 

"You  needn't  mind  staying  any  longer,"  she  re* 
marked,  brusquely ;  "I  will  take  charge  of  the  patient 
now." 

1  "No,"  said  the  other,  quietly  but  'firmly.  "It  is  be 
tween  twelve  and  one  that  the  most  important  rnedi« 
cine  must  be  administered." 

"Don't  you  suppose  I  am  capable  of  giving  it?-"  re-* 
torted  Nadine  angrily  enough.  "You  don't  seem  ta 
realize  what  is  the  business  of  a  paid  nurse !" 

The  other  made  no  remark,  but  still  she  lingefeck 
Had  she  a  suspicion  that  there  was  anything  amis^? 

She  was  a  strange  creature,  anyhow,  with  that  oT3-* 
looking  face,  the  great  mass  of  thick  black  half, 
studded- with  gray,  and  the  thick  blue  glasses. 


214  PRETTY  MADCAP  DOROTHY 

Where  had  she  seen  some  one  of  whom  this  creatura 
reminded  her  so  strangely  and  so  strongly  ? 

Even  the  tone  of  her  voice,  although  it  sounded 
hearse  and  unnatural,  was  somehow  familiar  to  her. 

The  very  way  in  which  Mrs.  Brown  crested  h€£ 
head  she  had  seen  somewhere  before,  and  it  had  made 
quite  an  impression  upon  her  at  the  time.  i 

"I  can  not  help  thinking  that  she  is  always  spying 
upon  every  movement  of  mine,  and  she  listens — I  am 
sure  she  does — to  every  word  the  doctor  and  I  say  3 
and  these  people  who  watch  others  so  much  always 
need  watching-  themselves." 

Seeing  that  Nadine  Holt  was  determined  to  ban 
ish  her  from  the  sick-room,  Dorothy  quitted  the  apart* 
ir.ent  with  a  very  heavy  heart,  though  she  could  no€ 
have  told  why. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 


The  days  that  followed  were  dark  ones  to  the  Gar* 
ner  household,  for  Jessie  began  to  fail  rapidly. 

She  grew  so  weak  that  the  entire  household  began 
to  grow  terribly  alarmed  over  her  condition.  Jiven  the 
doctor  had  grave  apprehension  for  his  patient. 

"The  case  of  Miss  Staples  puzzles  me  completely," 
be  said  to  Doctor  Crandall,  when  he  returned  to  his 
office  one  afternoon.  "I  have  never  known  of  symp 
toms  like  hers ;"  and  he  minutely  described  the  strange 
turn  the  case  had  taken  which  had  baffled  him  com 
pletely. 


PRETTY  MADCAP  DOROTHY  213 

"As  soon  as  I  am  able  to  be  about  I  will  go  witli 
you  and  see  for  myself  just  where  the  trouble  is." 
Meanwhile,  a  serious  matter  was  agitating  the  brain 

4  of  poor  Jessie  Staples. 

1     She  realized  before  any  of  the  rest  did  that  her 

]  condition  was  becoming  alarming,  and  her  wedding- 

}  <lay  was  drawing  nearer  and  nearer. 

But  when  that  day  dawned,  a  secret  voice  in  her 
heart  whispered  that  she  would  be  "the  bride  of 
death,"  and  not  Jack  Garner's. 

She  wondered  if  Heaven  meant  it  for  the  best,  that 
she  must  give  up  the  life  that  might  have  held  so  muchl 
for  her.  She  had  longed  for  death  many  a  time ;  but 
row  that  it  seemed  imminent,  her  very  soul  grew 
frightened  because  of  one  thought:  she  would  have 
to  leave  Jack  behind  her.  It  seemed  to  her  that  though 
she  should  be  buried  fathoms  deep,  her  soul  would 
cling  to  earth — and  Tack.  What  if,  in  time  to  come, 
he  should  forget  her!  Ah!  that  was  the  bitterest 
stroke  of  all;  and  she  realized  that,  no  matter  how 
deeply  a  person  may  love,  when  the  object  of  that  af 
fection  dies,  time  brings  balm  to  his  woe,  and  mellows 
it  into  forgetfulness  or  to  a  shadowy  memory. 

If  she  were  to  die,  would  he  ever  love  another,  and 

I  stand  with  that  other  before  the  altar? 

In  her  day-dreams,  in  times  gone  by,  Jessie  had  pic- 

j  tured  to  herself — as  girls  will  in  those  rosy  moments 

i  — how  she  would  stand  at  the  altar,  and  listen  with' 
whirling  brain  and  beating  heart  to  those  sweet,  solemn 
words  that  would  bind  her  forever  to  the  man  she 
loved'  with  more  than  a  passing  love.  She  pictured 
Slow  she  would  walk  down  the  aisle,  leaning  on  his 
arm — that  great,  strong  arm  that  would  be  her  sup>« 


216  PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY 

port  for  evermore — a  great  mist  of  happy  tears  in  her 
eyes  as  she  clung  to  him. 

-     She  even  pictured  to  herself  how  he  would  help  her 
into  the  coach,  and  how  they  would  drive  away  out  ^ 
into  the  great  wide  world  together,  to  be  separated  s 
never  again.  x 

,  Instead  of  all  this,  now  she  would  be  lying  in  her 
grave,  with  blue  forget-me-nots  and  pale  primroses  on 
'her  breast. 

t  Jack  would  be  going  through  that  scene  with 
another  as  his  bride;  and  as  the  years  rolled  by  he 
would  forget  her,  or  think  of  her  only  now  and  then 
at  times— not  with  keen  regret;  but  with  faint,  vague 
indifference. 

Oh,  God !  if  it  had  been  he  who  was  destined  to  die, 
she  would  have  shut  herself  up  from  the  world,  and 
would  have  lived  only  for  his  memory. 
'    Her  last  prayer  would  have  been,  when  death's  dew 
gathered  on  her  brow,  to  be  buried  beside  him. 

Jput  men  are  more  fickle  than  women.    How  few; 
of  fnerh  remain  true  to  a  dead  love  I 

As  she  tossed  to  and  fro  on  her  pillow,  these 
thoughts  tortured  her  more  than  tongue  could  tell. 

Then  a  strange  fancy  took  possession  of  her. 

The  more  she  thought  of  it,  the  more  her  heart ! 
tkmged  to  accomplish  it,  until  she  could  not  restrain  '• 
the  longing  that  seemed  to  take  entire  possession  of 
her. 

And  one  day,  when  she  seemed  even  more  ill  than 
•usual,  she  could  no  longer  restrain  the  impulse  to 
send  for  Jack. 

He  came  quickly  at  her  bidding,  sat  down  by  her 


PRETTY   MADCAP  DOROTHY  2IT 

i  caught  the  little  white  hand — ah !  terribly  thin 
and  white  now — in  his,  and  raised  it  to  his  lips. 

F-  "Did  you  wish  me  to  sit  with  you,  Jessie?"  he  said. 
^Or  would  you  like  me  to  read  to  you?" 

"No;  I  want  to  talk  to  you,  Jack,"  she  said,  with  a 
little  quiver  in  her  voice. 

"Have  you  ever  thought  how  near  it  is  to* — to  our 
wedding-day,  Jack,"  she  whispered,  faintly. 

3  "Yes,"  said  Jack,  with  never  a  thought  of  what  was 
coming. 

"What — what  would  you  do  if  I  were  still  ill  when 
it  dawned?" 

"The  ceremony  could  be  performed  just  the  same," 
he  answered,  promptly.  "There  would  be  no  wedding 
at  the  church,  no  invited  guests ;  that  would  be  all  the 
'difference." 

;  "Would  you  wish  to  marry  me  if — if  you  knew 
that  I  would  never  be  well  again,  and  that  perhaps 
'death  would  be  hovering  very,  very  near  to  claim  me, 
and  to  part  me  from  you  ?" 

•  "I  will  keep  to  my  part  of  the  compact,  Jessie,"  he 
said,  huskily. 

,  "But  what  if  I  should  die  before  it,  Jack?"  she 
questioned,  faintly. 

<:  "I  do  not  know  what  you  mean,  Jessie,"  he  said, 
gravely — "what  you  are  trying  to  get  at." 

{      "Oh,  Jack!  I  mean  this  :  I — I  want  to  belong  to  you 

Mn  life  and  in  death.  I  do  not  want  you  to  have  any 
other  love  but  me,  even  if  I  should  be  taken  from 
you.  I  want  you  to  be  true  to  rne  forever.  I  could 
not  rest  in  my  grave,  though  they  buried  me  fathoms 
<?.eep;  if  you  ever  called  another — wife!  If  I  am  to 


'218  PRETTY  MADCAP  DOROTHT 

j> 

gie,  Jack,  you  must  promise  me  one  thing — that  yotf 
Svill  never  wed — another!" 

M  "How  can  you  talk  of  such  a  thing,  my  deac 
Jessie?"  he  said,  reproachfully.  "You  pain  me  be 
yond  measure." 

j.  "You  will  give  me  that  promise,  will  you  not,  • 
Jack?"  she  pleaded.  "The  pangs  of  death  will  be' 
easier  to  bear  if  my  mind  is  but  at  rest  on  that  s<ub-  \ 
|ect." 

f  "You  are"  going  to  get  well  soon,  and  the  ceremony 
{will  take  place  as  we  have  arranged,"  he  said,  sooth 
ingly;  but  she  shook  her  head. 

?'  "If  I  should  not,  Jack,"  she  whispered,  fixing  -hec 
burning  eyes  wistfully  on  his  face,  "let  me  have  the 
assurance  from  your  lips  that  you  will  never,  nevec 
put  another  in  my  place." 

i  "If  it  will  settle  any  doubts  in  your  mind,  I  give 
you  the  promise  that  you  ask,"  he  answered,  in  a  low, 
grave  voice ;  and  it  was  worth  that  promise  to  see  the 
girl's  pale  face  light  up  with  a  swift  flush  of  joy. 
>  "Oh,  thank  you — thank  you,  Jack!"  she  sobbed. 
P  At  that  moment  a  strange  incident  was  taking  place 
En  Dorothy's  room. 

Almost  thoroughly  exhausted  with  night-watching,  1 
Dorothy  had  fallen  asleep  in  a  chair,  in  which  she  had  | 
sat  down  for  a  few  moments'  rest. 

Was  it  only  a  vision?  she  wondered,  or  did  she 
tiear  some  one  call  her  name  softly:  "Dorothy! 
Dorothy !" 

I  She  turned  her  head  quickly,  but  she  could  see  no 
One,  although  some  one  was  whispering: 

^Why  do  you  nurse  Jessie  so  carefully?  If  it  is 
Destined  that  she  should  die,  I  wonder  thai  you  grieve 


PSETTY   MADCAP  DOROTHY 

when  you  know  that  her  death  will  bring  freedom  id 
Jack  Garner  and  love  to  you !" 

The  idea  was  so  startling  that  for  a  time  it  nearly 
took  her  breath  away.  ^ 

"Let  her  drift  quietly  on  to  the  end  which  is  near,1 
If  you  do  not  work  too  zealously  to  save  her,  youfl 
reward  will  be  the  heart  of  him  whom  you  love  af 
last.  Take  warning,  and  heed  my  words!"  ^ 

Dorothy  sprang  from  her  chair,  quivering  with  ex«v 
citement. 

She  had  been  fast  asleep,  and  the  words  that  still 
rang  in  her  ears  shocked  her  yet,  even  though  shd 
knew  it  was  but  a  dream — though  such  a  vivid  one—* 
and  the  voice  that  whispered  those  words  to  hen 
seemed  so  like  Jack's.  ^ 

Still  the  idea  was  in  her  head.  If  Jessie  Staples 
idled,  &er  Jover  would  be  free  again,  and  she  knew] 
what  that  would  mean  for  herself. 

She  tried  to  put  the  thought  from  her,  but  shq 
could  not ;  it  haunted  her  continually. 

She  tried  to  tell  herself  that  even  if  Jessie  were  to 
<Ke,  she  would  never  make  herself  known  to  Jack.    M| 
,      But,  even  after  she  had  said  all  that,  she  knew  in 
j  her  own  mind  that  she  would  be  sure  to  let  Jack  know] 
at  last,  for  she  would  never  realize  a  moment's  happ?« 
ness  until  she  was  once  more  what  she  had  been  to 
Jack  in  the  past. 

It  had  been  such  a  slight  affair  that  had  parted 
them,  and  that  had  drifted  two  hearts  asunder. 


220  PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY 

Alas!  how  light  a  cause  may  move 

Dissensions  between  hearts  that  love — 

Hearts  that  the  world  in  vain  had  tried, 

And  sorrow  but  more  closely  tied ; 

That  stood  the  storm  when  waves  were  rough, 

Yet  in  a  sunny  hour  fell  off, 

Like  ships  that  have  gone  down  at  sea 

When  heaven  was  all  tranquillity." 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

During  the  week  that  followed,  the  words  that 
Dorothy  had  heard  in  her  dream  constantly  recurred 
to  her.  »'• 

At  first  she  fought  against  the  feeling  that  seemed 
to  be  forced  upon  her.  \ 

She  cried  out  to  herself  that  Jessie  must  live;  but 
with  that  thought  always  came  the  one  that,  if  Jessie 
recovered,  it  would  mean  the  downfall  of  all  her  own 
future  happiness. 

At  last  her  growing  love  for  Jack  Garner  conquered 
her.  She  yielded  to  it.  It  was  like  the  intoxication 
of  rare  wine,  of  sweet,  subtle  perfume,  until  at  last, 
in  secret,  she  confessed  to  herself  that  she  loved  him. 
She  thought  of  nothing  but  that  she  loved  Jack  with', 
r.ll  the  strength  and  fervor  of  her  despairing  soul,  and 
the  only  barrier  between  them  was — Jessie. 

To  make  matters  all  the  worse,  the  sick  girl  made 
a  confidante  of  her,  and  would  talk  to  her  for  long1 
hours  at  a  time  over  her  approaching  marriage — that 
is,  if  she  should  recover. 


PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY  221 

Every  word  she  said  was  like  the  sharp  thrust  of  a 
aword  to  Dorothy;  but  day  by  day  Dorothy  could  not 
f?elp  but  notice  the  terrible  change  that  was  taking 
place  in  Jessie  Staples. 

Every  afternoon  her  ctfuch  was  drawn  to  the  bay- 
v/indow.  She  liked  to  be  propped  up  where  she  could 
look  out  into  the  sunlit  garden,  with  its  green  foliage 
and  bright-hued  flowers ;  for  it  was  in  the  garden  that 
Jack  could  be  seen,  pacing  up  and  down  under  the 
trees,  smoking  his  afternoon  cigar. 
r  She  would  always  call  for  Jack  when  she  saw  him, 
and  when  he  came  into  the  room  she  would  hold  out 
her  arms  to  him  with  a  strange,  low  cry. 

He  would  always  kneel  down  by  her  side,  talk  to 
her,  try  to  cheer  her.  Sleep  would  never  come  to  her 
Unless  he  sat  by  her  side,  holding  her  hands  in  his. 

It  was  with  great  relief  that  Mr.  Garner  heard  at 
length  that  Doctor  Crandall  was  so  much  better  th*at 
lie  would  visit  Jessie  the  next  afternoon. 

When  he  came  Doctor  Kendal  took  him  at  once  to 
the  sick-room,  and  there  they  held  a  long  and  secret 
consultation. 

;      "I  am  obliged  to  say,  sir,  that   I  shall  have  to 
abandon  the  case,"  said  Kendal.     "I  am  completely 
'dumb founded  with  it.   I  have  most  carefully  followed 
':  out  your  every  suggestion,  and  yet  the  patient  fails 
:  rapidly  before  my  eyes  day  after  day." 
J      Doctor  Crandall  looked  thoughtful. 

When  he  left  Jessie's  couch  he  found  Mr.  Garner 
awaiting  him  in  the  library. 

"What  do  you  think  of  her,  sir?"  he  asked,  quickly. 

"There  is  not  much  the  matter,"  he  replied;  "a 


822  PRETTY  MADCAP  DOROTHY 

\ 

good  tonic,  rest,  and  a  little  cheerful  society  will  soon 
get  the  young  lady  right  again." 

JF-   "It  is  the  first  time  that  you  have  seen  her,  doctor," 

!Said  Jack,  rather  dubiously.  "You  never  saw  her  in 
ftealth,  sir.  You  do  not  know  how  alarmingly  she 
has  changed  for  the  worse.  She  had  a  brilliant  color, 
but  it  has  all  gene." 

|-\  "it  will  soon  return,"  said  the  doctor,  encourag- 
frjgly ;  and  with  a  few  further  words  he  left  Jack,  more 
mystified  than  ever. 

|r  For  forty  odd  years  he  had  enjoyed  a  large  prac 
tice,  but  in  all  that  time  he  had  never  had  a  case  ex- 
BCtly  like  this. 

ji  He  made  up  his  mind  then  and  there  that  there  was 
Something  about  this  case  which  was  beyond  him— • 
fthere  was  something  about  it  that  he  could  not  fathom, 
ifliat  was  shrouded  in  mystery. 

jj|  'He  wired,  without  delay,  an  urgent  message  to  an 
eminent  physician  with  whom  he  was  on  excellent 
ferms.  It  was  almost  midnight  when  Bictor  Schimpf 
ttfrived  at  the  Garner  mansion. 

t?  His  friend,  Doctor  Crandall,  was  awaiting  him,  and 
together  they  made  their  way  at  once  to  the  sick-room. 

!!  "This  is  an  urgent  case,  I  suppose,"  said  Doctor 
Schimpf. 

;f  <el  am  afraid  so,"  was  the  reply.  "You  will  be  able 
fo  judge  when  you  see  the  patient." 
p-  Doctor  Schimpf 's  stern  face  grew  sterner  still  as 
fie  made  his  examination  of  poor  Jessie.  Then  the 
Hectors  quitted  the  room  and  commenced  their  con 
sultation. 

/  $sradine  Holt  looked  after  them  with  a  strange  smile 
Dn  her  face,  her  black  eyes  glittering-. 


'PRETTY  MADCAP  DOROTHY  223 

"Well,"  said  Doctor  Crandall,  "I  wonder  if  W 
Loth  have  the  same  opinion  in  regard  to  this  case."  4 

"It  can  admit  of  but  one,"  returned  Doctor  Schimp^ 
\vith  a  shake  of  his  head. 

"And  that  is?" 

"It  is  a  case  of  slow  poisoning,"  was  the  answer. 

Doctor  Crandall  grasped  his  friend's  hand. 

"That  was  my  view  exactly,"  he  said,  huskily. 

"There  is  but  one* way  to  proceed,"  returned  Doc 
tor  Schimpf :  "we  must  set  a  watch  upon  the  inmates 
of  the-  sick-room,  and  discover  who  is  the  perpetrator 
of  this  awful  crime;  and  in  the  meantime  mak<a 
minute  inquiries  if  there  is  any  one  under  this  roof 
who  would  be  likely  to  be,  benefited  by  this  poor  girl's 
death.  I  propose  that  we  proceed  without  an  hour's 
delay."  * 

"Agreed!"  returned  the  other,  promptly.  "And  13 
would  suggest,  as  well,  that  a  woman  be  secured,  if 
possible,  to  undertake  this*  task  of  ferreting"  out  wha 
is  responsible  for  this  awful  crime  that  will  soon  ter« 
rninate  fatally  if  not  nipped  in  the  bud."  & 

The  next  morning  a  young  colored  girl  duly  pre* 
sented  herself  at  the  Garner  mansion.  HJ 

"I  have  brought*  you  an  assistant,"  said  Doctor! 
Crandall,  leading  her  into  the  presence  of  Dorothy 
and  Nadine  Holt,  and  bowing  to  each  in  turn.  "Sha 
is  to  obey  your  orders  implicitly,  and  wait  upon  yotu 
The  medicines  we  have  left  are  of  an  extremely  pttrn 
gent  odor,  and  likely  to  overcome  a  person  unused  tci 
them.  She  can  attend  to  mixing  the  preparations  foe 
you,  tf  you  both  consider  her  competent  to  do  so, 
which  you  can  tell  after  a  short  trial ;"  adding,  besides  1 
•"One  drop  of  this  stains  the  hands,  and  it  can  not  b* 


224  PRETTY  MADCAP  DO  ROTH  .2  > 


got  off  for  months.    I  thought  this  might  be  sufficient 
reason  for  placing  this  young  girl  at  your  disposal.'*  -  j 
:y  "You  are  yery  thoughtful,  sir,"  said  Nadine  Holt, 
sweetly;  but  Dorothy  spoke  never  a  word. 

Both  doctors  turned  and  looked  keenly  at  her;  their  I 
the  conversation  drifted  quickly  into  another  channel;  E 
but  both  had  made  up  their  minds  that  this  boded  no- 1 
good  for  the  slender,  dark-looking  woman  with  the 
blue  glasses  who  hovered  continually  about  the  sick 
girl's  couch.  (I 

As  the  doctors  were  leaving,  under  guise  of  giving; 
a  few  words  of  instruction  to  Myra,  the  mulatto  girl, 
they  whispered  hurriedly  in  her  ear. 

"I  understand,"  she  answered,  with  a  nod  of  hen 
head.  "Nothing  shall  escape  my  eye."  •  j 

The  next  day  Doctor  Crandall  made  minute  in 
quiries  regarding  every  member  of  the  household, 
and  every  addition  that  had  been  made  to  it  for  the. 
past  few  months,;  and  he  learn ed5  casually,  that  the 
jatily  person  under  that  roof  with  whose  history  the 
Garners  were  not  thoroughly  acquainted  was — Mrs.. 
Brown.  »  \ 

Furthermore,  he  discovered  that  she  had  secured 
the  place  without  proper  recommendations.    This  he  | 
considered  a  serious  affair.    He  was  quite  willing  to 
give  her  the  benefit  of  a  doubt ;  still,  it  was  too  grave  | 
a  matter  of  which  he  had  charge.    Every  moment  of 
time  wasted  in  discovering  the  perpetrator  of  the 
awful  crime  was  dangerous  to  Miss  Staples,  his  beau 
tiful  patient,  exposed  to  such  deadly  peril. 

All  unmindful  of  the  espionage  placed  upon  Her, 
Dorothy  went  about  her  duties  in  the  same  faithful 
manner. 


PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY  225 

In  the  morning  she  read  to  and  amused  old  Mrs. 
Garner.  In  the  afternoon  she  attended  to  all  the 
duties  of  the  household;  for  in  the  midst  of  theix; 
difficulties  their  housekeeper  had  left  t'.iem. 

In  the  evening  she  relieved  Nadine  Holt  from  he£ 
•arduous  duties  in  the  sick-room. 
I      The  only  gleam  of  brightness  that  fell  athwart  her 
path  was  meeting  Jack  Garner  at  the  table  three 
j  times  a  day.    Her  life  merged  into  one  great  longing 
j  to  be  near  him. 

She  tried  to  picture  how  it  would  be  when  Jessie 
recovered  and  he  should  marry  her.  Of  course,  they 
would  still  dwell  beneath  that  roof.  Could  the  same 
home  that  held  them  hold  her? 

She  could  not  endure  seeing  them  so  happy  in  each 
other's  love.  Whenever  Jack  entered  the  sick-room, 
Dorothy  always  made  some  pretense  to  leave  it. 

The  sight  of  him  bringing  a  flower  to  Jessie  would 
be  enough  to  almost  break  her  heart  with  poignant 
grief. 

She  could  not  help  but  notice  how  handsome  he  was 
growing  day  by  day. 

Oh,  what  would  she  not  have  given  for  just  one  oS 
.  the  kindly  words  he  used  to  speak  to  her,  a  tendsfi 
look,  a  caress ! 


226  PRETTY  MADCAP  DOROTHY 

CHAPTER  XXXV. 

'Not  one  thought  did  Dorothy  give  to  Harry  Kendal   f 

'during  these  days.    It  is  strange  what  a  power  some  1 

young  girls  possess  in  throwing  off  all  tender  thoughts  fj 

from  their  hearts  when  the  object  of  them  has  proven  £ 

himself  unworthy.  \  ^ 

All  love  for  Harry  Kendal  had  gone  out  of  her  hearti 
when  she  saw  him  choose  Iris'  society  instead  of  hetj 
own,  and  she  at  the  time  his  betrothed  bride. 

Dorothy's  only  hope  was  that  Kendal  would  not 
penetrate  her  disguise,  and  never  know  what  had  be- ' 
come  of  her.  '  j 

Slie  did  not  know  but  what  he  was  now  betrothed; 
to  Iris,  and  she  did  not  care.  She  was  glad  to  be  rid 
of  hfm  at  any  cost.  She  only  wished  that  Nadine  Hott 
*•— who  was  still  so  insanely  in  love  with  her  false  lover 
<— knew  how  treacherous  he  was.  She  wished  she  dare 
tell  her  about  Iris.  t  \ 

j  In  her  hours  of  loneliness  little  Pearl  was  a  great 
comfort  to  Dorothy.  She  almost  lost  sight  of  het! 
troubles  at  times  in  taking  care  of  the  child,  who  was 

I7 


as  desolate  in  the  world  as  herself. 

She  never  forgot  one  morning  that  broke 
enough  for  her,  but  ended  in  desolation  more  bitter  fa 
endure  than  death. 

Mrs.  Garner  and  herself  were  seated  at  the  brealc* 
fast  table,  when  Jack  entered  and  took  his  seat 
posffe  Dorothy.  He  bent  his  fair,  handsouip 
and.  kissed  his  mother  as  he  passed  her,  afrd  bowed 
courteously  to  "Mrs.  Brown."  *; 

?    Both'  noticed  that  his  fair,  handsome  face  was  verjj 


PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY  227 

|>ale,  and  his  right  hand  looked  bruised.  Mrs.  Garner 
spoke  of  it  at  once. 

|  "What  is  the  matter — what  has  happened,  Jack,  my 
Jboy?"  she  asked,  earnestly.  "What  does  your  agita 
tion  mean?  You  must  tell  me  at  once.  Your — your. 

.appearance  alarms  me  more  than  I  can  tell  you." 

|      He  tried  to  laugh  the  matter  off,  but  his  mother 

I  would  not  be  persuaded  to  change  the  subject. 

',,    "WTeIl,  then,  if  you  must  know,  i  will  tell  you  wheiP 

f«*~\ve — are — alone,"  he  said,  a  little  unsteadily. 

jt  "You  need  not  mind  Mrs.  Brown,"  she  answered, 
Quickly.  "I  do  not  hesitate  speaking  before  her  on 

!any  topic." 

I.    Dorothy  rose  hurriedly  to  her  feet. 

"I — I  have  finished  my  breakfast,"  she  said,  in  the 
low  tone  she  had  assumed,  and  which  so  charmed 
every  one;  "'and  if  you  will  excuse  me,  I  shall  be 
grateful." 

|  Jack  bowed  courteously ;  but  Mrs.  Garner  held  out 
£  fluttering  hand  to  stay  her  steps. 

I.1  "Do  not  go  very  far,  Mrs.  Brown,"  she  said.  "I 
tnay  need  you  at  any  moment.  Step  into  the  conserva 
tory  and  wait  for  further  orders  there." 

With  a  bow  of  assent  Dorothy  glided  from  the 
room.  She  was  sorry  that  Mrs.  Garner  had  requested 
iher  to  remain  In  the  conservatory,  for  she  knew  full 
iwell  that  more  or  less  of  the  conversation  between 
mother  and  son  must  needs  reach  her  ears. 

The  door  had  no  sooner  closed  behind  the  slim,  re 
treating  figure  ere  Mrs.  Gamer  turned  quickly  to  her 
son,  who  was  now  pacing  up  and  down  the  breakfast- 
room,  with  his  arms  folded  tightly  over  his  breast, 


228  PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY 

liis  head  crested  proudly  erect  and  a  strange  look  in 
his  eyes. 

,  "Well,  Jack.''"  she  said,  at  length,  seeing  that  he  was 
in  no  hurry  to  break  the  silence,  "what  is  the  matter? 
You  used  to  tell  your  mother  all  your  troubles  when 
you  were  a  little  boy.  Come  to  me  with  them  now. 
Something  has  happened  to  disturb  you  greatly.  I 
can  see  it  in  your  face.  Tell  me  what  it  is,  my  boy. 
Tell  your  mother  what  annoys  you,  my  dear." 
»  "You  are  right,  mother;  something  has  happened 
to  disturb  me,"  he  said.  "I  ought  not  to  worry  you 
with  it.  but  if  you  care  to  hear  it  you  shall  know  all. 
You  remember  a  conversation  we  had  several  months 
ago  about — about  little  Dorothy,  mother?" 

"We  did  have  a  conversation  about  that  girl,  but  I 
do  not  remember  specially  all  that  was  said." 

"You  remember  that  I  told  you  then,  mother,  that 
•'-that  I  still  loved  Dorothy,  and  if  I  ever  came  across 
the  man  who  lured  her  away  from  me  it  would  go  hard 
with  him  or  with  me." 

"I  was  in  hopes  that  you  were  getting  over  that  non 
sense,"  she  said,  "especially  since  your  betrothal  to 
poor  Jessie." 

i.     "I  told  you  then,  as  I  tell  you  now,  mother,  that  I  f 
shall  never  forget  Dorothy  nor  cease  to  love  her.    But  f 
for  the  story  I  have  to  tell :    An  hour  since,  as  I  was  } 
taking  an  early  morning  stroll  to  get  a  cigar,  a  little 
incident  happened  which  caused  me  to  pause  and  to 
quite  forget  my  errand.     It  was  only  a  little  lame  boy 
singing  for  pennies  ©n  the  street,  and  the  song  that  he 
sang  touched  my  fjecst,  as  it  has  not  been  touched  for 
long  months,  and  ths^kd  every  fiber  of  my  being  with 
a  sharp,  keen  paiia 


PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY  22S| 

"You  have  heard  the  same  song,  mother.    You  re* 
member  how  I  rose  and  abruptly  left  the  room  wRett 
some  young  girl  commenced  to  ^ing  it  in  our  drawing- 
room  only  a  few  short  weeks  ago.    To-day  I  listened 
to  it,  spellbound ;  and  the  boy's  accompaniment  on  the 
violin  held  me  as  one  fascin? ted.  I  tried  to  move  away, 
;  fcut  could  not,  as  you  can  judge  by  what  occurred 
'afterward.    There  was  a  Grange  fate  in  my  standing^ 
'  there.  « 

"I  stood  quite  still  and  listened  to  the  well-remem* 
'bered  words  which  carrhd  me  back  so  forcibly  to 
cvn  past  with  Dorothy  : 

"  Tar  away  in  summer  meadows, 

Where  the  merry  sunbeams  played, 
Oft  I  lingers  J  'mid  the  clover 

Singing  to  a  village  maid. 
She  was  fairer  than  the  fairest, 

Ever  faithful,  fond  and  true, 
Ai)d  she  wore  beneath  her  bonnet 

Axnber  tresses  tied  with  blue. 

*  'Ere  the  summer  days  departed, 

We  had  made  a  solemn  vow, 
And  I  never,  never  wearied 

Kissing  her  sweet  cheek  and  brow. 
She  was  dearer  than  the  dearest, 

Pure  as  drops  of  morning  dew, 
And  adown  her  back  were  hanging. 

Amber  tresses  tied  with  blue. 

w  *  'Twas  decreed  that  fate  should  part  us 
Ere  the  leaves  of  autumn  fell, 


230  PRETTY  MADCAP   DOROTHY 

And  two  loving  hearts  were  severed/. 

That  had  loved  each  other  well  . 
She  was  all  I  had  to  cherish, 

We  have  bade  our  last 
Still  I  see  in  every  visk*£ 

Amber  fce^fcs  tied  with 


Just  at  that  moment  a  step  sounded  on  the  pavement 

"A  man  rushed  down,  hatless,  from  an  adjacent 
mansion,  and  in  a  twinkling  seized  the  offending 
young  musician  by  the  throat,  and  hurled  him  from  the 
sidewalk,  crying,  fiercely  :  V 

"  'I  will  teach  you  to  come  here  every  morning  and 
to  sing  that  accursed  song  of  all  others  in  front  of  my 
door.  I  have  ordered  you  away  twice  before.  I'll 
teach  you  better  than  to  come  back  again.'  * 

"The  unprovoked  assult  upon  the  helpless  cripple 
awoke  all  the  anger  in  my  nature.  v 

"I  sprang  forward  and  separated  them;  but  when 
I  saw  who  the  cripple's  assailant  \vas,  my  amazement 
knew  no  bounds. 

"It  was  the  young  doctor  who  comes  here  to  attend 
Jessie.  ; 

"He  turned  on  me  with  terrible  ferocity:  then  I  rec 
ognized  the  fumes  of  wine  on  his  breath. 

"  'This  is  the  second  time  you  have  interfered  in 
my  business,  Garner  P  he  cried,  fairly  foaming  witK  < 
rage.   'Once  when  you   attempted  to  take  Dorothy, 
Glenn  from  me  on  the  Staten  Island  boat,  and  —  now.* 

"I  fell  back  as  though  he  had  struck  me  a  terrible 
Mow.  In  an  instant  I  recognized  him.  I  had  been 
looking  for  him  ever  since  Dorothy's  flight.  I  had 
Caught  but  a  fleeting  glimpse  of  him  in  the  past,  and 


PRETTY  MADCAP  DOROTHY  238 

i  * 

Sis  whiskers  made  such  a  change  in  him,  no  wonder 
J  did  not  recognize  him  as  he  crossed  our  threshold^ 
and  this  accounted  for  the  manner  in  which  he  had 
managed  to  avoid  me  in  my  own  household. 

"  'You !  You  fiend  incarnate,  have  I  found  you  at 
last  ?  I  could  kill  you  here  and  now  1*  I  cried  as  my 
pngers  tightened  around  his  throat.  'But  I  will  give 
you  one  chance  to  save  yourself.  Name  your  own 
place  as  to  where  you  will  meet  me.  I  did  not  recog« 
nize  you  before.  You  shall  tell  me  what  you  have  done 
tvvith  Dorothy  Glenn,  or  I  will  kill  you  T 

"Those  words  seemed  to  recall  him  to  his  senses. 
He  drew  back  defiantly,  and  his  flashing  black  eyes  met 
inine,  while  a  terrible  sneer  curled  his  lips. 

"  'You  shall  never  know  whether  Dorothy  Glenn  is 
living  or  dead !'  he  cried. 

"I  could  have  borne  anything  better  than  those 
scathing  words  from  the  lips  of  the  man  who  had 
taken  from  me  the  girl  I  loved. 

;  "  'You  will  find  me  at  my  home  up  to  the  hour  of 
noon/  he  said.  'Make  any  arrangements  you  deem 
necessary.' 

,  "I  turned  on  my  heel  and  left  him;  and  here  I  am, 
awaiting  a  summons  from  him." 

Mrs.  Garner  had  risen  slowly  to  her  feet.    The  im 
port  of  his  words  had  just  begun  to  dawn  upon  her. 
I      "Jack !"  she  cried,  wildly,  throwing  herself  upon  her 
I  knees  at  his  feet,  "is  it  to  be  a  duel?    Oh,  my  God, 
Jack,  answer  me  !w 

They  heard  a  crasK  in  the  conservatory,  Sut  both 
•were  too  excited  to  mind  it. 

"Let  me  go  in  your  place,"  cried  a  Hoarse  voice 
Irom  the  doorway  of  tHe  conservatory.  "Pardon  me, 


232  PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY 

•but  I  cotiTd  not  help  overhearing  all ;"  and  Mrs.  Brown 
advanced  excitedly  into  the  breakfast-room,  and  up  to 
Jack's  side.  "Let  me  go  in  your  place,"  she  repeated. 
"Let  me  give  my  life  for  yours.  I — I  have  nothing 
left  to  live  for ;  you  have." 

Jack  was  deeply  touched. 

"You  forget  your  little  child,"  he  said,  gently.  "Be 
sides,  any  man  might  reasonably  take  up  the  quarrel 
of  a  lady,  and,  if  need  be,  die  in  her  defense,  be  she 
friend  or  stranger ;  but  no  woman  should  make  such  a 
sacrifice  for  a  man.  I  thank  you  for  the  kindness  of 
heart  that  prompted  the  words ;  but  it  can  not  be.  I 
am  sorry  that  you  overheard  my  words  to  my  mother. 
See !  she  has  swooned  away.  I  beg  that  you  will  take 
care  of  her,  and  let  none  of  the  household  know  what 
is  about  to  occur." 

•  As  Jack  Garner  uttered  the  words,  he  kissed  the 
prostrate  form  of  his  mother,  and,  turning,  walked 
jiastily  out  of  the  room. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 


Dorothy  then  set  about  restoring  Jack's  mother,  and  I 
!with  the  first  breath  of  returning  consciousness  she 
ifled  from  the  room  and  up  to  her  own. 

She  was  just  about  to  seize  her  hat  and  cloak,  and 
to  dash  out  into  the  street,  in  the  mad  hope  of  over 
taking  him,  all  heedless  of  little  Pearl's  cry,  as  sHe 
woke  from  her  sleep  and  held  out  her  hand,  when 
there  came  a  sudden  knock  upon  the  door. 
I  It  was  the  colored  maid. 


PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY  233 

"If  you  please,  ma'am,  you  are  wanted  in  Miss 
'Staples'  room. 

"I  —  I  can  not  go  now,"  cried  Dorothy,  incoherently. 
ttl  have  an  urgent  errand  that  I  must  attend  to  at 


"But  you  must  come,  madame,"  said  the  girl,  slowly, 
fcut  very  impressively. 

"It  is  impossible/7  returned  Dorothy,  attempting  to 
pass  her  by.  "Every  moment  of  my  time  is  precious." 

"But  madame  must  go  to  the  sick-room,"  reiter 
ated  the  girl  so  earnestly  that  Dorothy  paused. 

"I  will  look  in  at  the  sick-room  one  moment,"  she 
-said.     "Then  you—  you  must  not  detain  me." 
i,     Suddenly  she  turned  and  asked  : 

"Do  you  know  whether  Mr.  Garner  is  in  the 
house?" 

"He  is  in  the  library,  ma'am." 

"You  are  sure?"  gasped  Dorothy. 

"Quite  sure,  ma'am.  He  also  has  had  a  message  to 
come  to  the  sick-room.  I  stopped  and  gave  it  to  him 
myself  on  my  way  here." 

Thus  assured  that  he  had  not  yet  left  the  house, 
[Dorothy  breathed  a  great  sigh  of  intense  relief. 
|      "I  —  £  do  not  mind  going  to  the  sick-room  with  you 
row,"  she  whispered,  in  a  low,  unsteady  voice;  and, 
I  all  unconscious  of  what  was  to  accrue  from  it,  Doro- 
|  thy  followed  her  companion  from  the  room  and  up  to 
3  Jessie's  chamber. 

The  silence  of  death  was  upon  all  things  as  she 
parted  the  silken  'portieres  and  entered  the  room 
Xvhere  the  sick  girl  lay,  white  and  gasping,  upon  the 
touch'. 


'£34  PRETTY  MADCAP  DOROTHY 

The  two  doctors  made  way  for  her,  motioning  hf $ 

to  advance  to  the  couch. 
i     "Oh!  she  is  not  dying — not  dying?"  gasped  Don>< 

thy,  with  a  wild  wail  of  terror.    ".You  must  not  teS 

me  that!" 

"Are  you  so  very  much  surprised?"  asked  Doctor 

Crandall,  slowly  and  impressively. 
!     "Oh,  she  must  not  die— she  must  not  die!"  she 
•  Cried.    "Where  is  all  your  vaunted  skill  if  you  can  not 

save  her  life?" 

;     "Man  can  work  against  the  skill  of  man,"  signif 
icantly  replied  Doctor  Crandall,  "but  not  against  the 

iwill  of  Heaven." 
1     "But  is  she  dying?"  wailed  Dorothy,  grasping  tha 

ice-cold  hands. 
ii    "She  shall  not  die  if  we  can  save  her,"  simultane* 

ously  echoed  both  doctors. 
•'•     They  uttered  the  words  in  so  strange  a  tone  that 

Dorothy  turned  and  looked  at  them  in  wonder. 

At  that  moment  Mr.  Garner  entered  the  room.    Hia 

lace  was  still  very  pale,  but  he  was  outwardly  calm. 
1     He  was  just  in  time  to  catch  the  last  words,  and 

lie  stepped  up  hurriedly  to  the  doctor  ere  he  could 

titter  another  word  to  Dorothjr. 

"Do  you  say  that  my  betrothed  is  dying?"  he  cried,  I 

hoarsely,  flinging  himself  on  his  knees  beside  the  coucK,  I 

on  tHe  side  opposite  to  where  Dorothy  was. 
i     "What  we  have  to  say  had  better  be  deferred  for; ' 
1  a  few  moments,  until  he  is  more  calm  and  better  abte 

to  bear  the  shock,"  said  Doctor  Schimpf,  nodding1  fa 

the  direction  where  Mr.  Garner  knelt  prostrated  witfi 

grief.  ^ 

had  become  strangely  calm,  and  botfi  3oex 


PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY  233' 

tors  noticed  that  she  intently  watched  the  actions  ol 
young  Mr.  Garner.  |j 

"I  think  I  have  unearthed  the  secret  of  the  wholef 
affair,"   whispered   Doctor   Crandall    to    his    friend* ! 
**  Watch  the  gaze  Mrs.  Brown  is  bending  upon  the  be*  \ 
trothed  lover  of  the  girl  who  lies  sick  unto  death  !f>. 

He  motioned  the  doctor  back  into  the  recess  of  the 
bay-window.  ^ 

"Let  me  finish  my  story  here,"  he  whispered  undefi 
his  breath.  "This  is  what  I  would  say :  This  strangS 
woman  in  the  black  dress  loves  Mr.  Garner.  Ah! 
you  start,  my  friend.  So  did  I  when  the  thought  firsS 
flashed  across  my  mind.  Within  the  last  few  moments 
this  thought  has  settled  into  a  conviction.  She  is  the 
only  one  interested  in  the  death  of  Miss  Staples.  Lool£ 
carefully  into  the  chain  of  evidence  I  present  to  youf 
and  you  will  have  the  same  opinion  that  I  have  formed,, 
no  doubt.  !\\ 

"In  the  first  place,  as  we  both  know,  Miss  Staples*, 
sudden  attack  of  illness  dated  from  a  few  days  aftefl 
this  mysterious  young  woman  crossed  this  threshold* 

"'Who  she  is,  or  whence  she  came,  no  one  seems  to 
have  been  clever  enough  to  find  out. 

"She  has  come  and  gone  from  this  house,  alone,  ancl 
at  all  hours,  no  one  questioning  her  movements. 

"She  has  taken  full  charge  of  the  patient,  from  mid 
night  until  early  morning,  and  each  forenoon  jour  pa«\ 
tient  seems  to  have  grown  alarmingly  worse.  We  have 
both  discovered  the  presence  of  arsenic,  which  has* 
been  administered  to  her. 

"And  now  last,  but  by  no  means  least,  I  have  been 
observing  this  mysterious  woman  with  keen  scrutiny. 
1  could  stake  my  life  upon  it  she  wears  a  wig,  that  hec 


236  PRETTY   MADCAP  DOROTHY 

complexion  is  a  'made-up'  one.  By  thte  you  will- 
understand  me  to  say  that  the  lines  we  see  traced  upon 
her  face  are  the  work  of  art,  not  time.  The  eyes 
covered  by  those  blue  glasses  are  bright  as  stars.  In 
short,  she  is  not  the  middle-aged  personage  that  she^ 
appears,  but  is  a  young  woman,  or  rather  a  fiend  in 
carnate,  in  disguise. 

"I  propose  within  the  next  few  moments  to  lay  the 
matter  before  Mr.  Garner,  and  to  gain  his  sanction 
to  compel  her  to  throw  off  this  disguise  before  she 
leaves  this  room,  to  confront  her  with  the  evidence 
of  her  crime,  and  to  force  her  to  make  a  full  con 
fession  at  the  bedside  of  her  would-be  victim." 

"I  quite  agree  with  your  plan,"  assented  the  other* 
"But  there  is  one  precaution  which  we  must  not  for 
get  :  the  key  must  be  turned  in  the  lock  and  removed, 
if  you  would  have  your  bird  securely  caged.  Delays 
are  dangerous.  Let  Mr.  Garner  be  told  the  terrible 
truth  without  a  moment's  delay,  and  we  will  rest  the 
case  wholly  with  him." 

Without  attracting  attention,  Doctor  Crandall  called 
Mr.  Garner  into  the  recess  of  the  bay-window,  while 
Doctor  Schimpf  engaged  Dorothy  in  conversation  to 
pass  the  time  away. 

To  attempt  to  describe  Jack  Garner's  astonishment, 
which  gradually  deepened  into  the  most  intense  horror 
as  the  terrible  story  was  unfolded  to  kirn,  can  better 
te  imagined  than  described. 

"Jessie  suffering  from  the  effects  of  poison?"  he 
gasped,  incredulously.  "Great  Heaven!  how  can  I  be 
lieve  such  an  uncanny  tale?  Miss  Staples  has  not  an 
enemy  in  the  whole  world,  I  am  sure.  No  one  could 


PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY  23Z 

(have  a  motive  in  attempting  to  put  her  out  of  the 

jway." 

;    "Will  you  answer  one  question?"  said  the  doctor, 

looking  earnestly  at  the  young  man.  ) 

^Anything  which  you  may  ask,"  quickly  returned 
the  other.  4 

"Did  you  ever  have  any  other  sweetheart  than  Miss 
Staples  ?  Did  any  other  woman  ever  love  you  in  the: 
past?" 

For  a  moment  Jack  hesitated,  and  his  fair,  hand 
some  face  flushed ;  then  he  frankly  raised  his  eyes  and 
met  the  keen  gaze  fixed  upon  him. 

"I  have  no  hesitancy  in  acknowledging  that  I  did 
Iiave  a  romance  in  my  life  before  my  betrothal  to  poor: 
jjessie.  But  she  knew  about  it  from  beginning  to> 
end."  ,>• 

"Did  you  give  this  girl  up  for  Miss  Staples?  Par- 
tion  me  for  asking  such  a  direct  question,  but  your; 
answer  is  vitally  important." 

.  The  handsome  face  into  which  the  old  doctor  gazed 
grew  very  white,  and  the  lines  about  the  firm  mouth' 
^deepened  into  an  expression  of  pain.  ? 

•  "My  little  sweetheart  disappeared  one  day  with"  a 
handsomer  man  than  I,"  he  said,  huskily,  "and  from 
that  time  to  this  I  have  never  looked  upon  her  false 
but  fair  face." 

"Did  she  love  you  in  those  days?"  was  the  next 
query. 

"I  wonder  that  you  can  ask  the  question,"  said 
'Jack,  with  a  touch  of  haughty  bitterness.  "Does  VI 
look  very  much  as  though  she  loved  me  when  she  ran 
away  with  another  man?  On  the  contrary,  any  one 
fcould  see  that,  in  pursuing  the  course  she  did  toward 


238  PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY 

jne,  she  must  have  detested  me.  I  never  saw  this  Mrs. 
(Brown  before  we  engaged  her  as  a  companion  to  my 
inother,  nor  has  Jessie,  I  am  sure.  I  am  completely 
5it  sea,"  Jack  added,  "and  therefore  I  leave  the  matter 
Chtirely  with  you.  If  Jessie  is  dying  of  slow  poison, 
I  beseech  you  to  discover  the  perpetrator  of  the  deed, 
at  any  cost — aye,  and  though  it  takes  every  dollar  of 
jny  fortune,  the  wretch  shall  be  punished  to  the  full 
extent  of  the  law." 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

Quietly  the  doctors  filed  into  the  room,  and  one  of 
them  turned  the  key  in  the  door, 
i  It  was  Dr.  Crandall  who  undertook  the  delicate 
task  of  unmasking  the  suspected  would-be  murderess. 
"I  will  tell  you,"  he  said,  slowly.  "The  poor  girl 
Son  the  couch  beside  which  you  have  often  knelt  is  dy 
ing  of  slow  poison,  administered  to  her  by  some  per- 

f£on  beneath  this  roof," 

|.    Dorothy  sprang  from  her  chair  and  reeled  back- 

;  ward,  looking  at  him  with  widely  dilated  eyes.     She  IT 
never  knew  how  it  happened,  but  in  that  instant  oft 
time  a  terrible  thought  came  to  her.    Could  Jack  Gar- 1 
fier  be  guilty  of  administering  it  to  her,  to  free  him-  r 

,  $elf  from  the  bonds  he  so  cruelly  hated  ? 

t!    Oh,    God!   how   the   thought   tortured   her.     She 
Bvonld  not — she  could  not  believe  it,  r\ 

„['    "Some  one  under  this  r©of  has  been  guilty  of  this 
Boost  atrocious  act,"  continued  the  doctor,  in  a  stern 


PRETTY  MADCAP  DOROTHY  239 

"We  suspect — we  know  the  guilty  party,  and 
that  party  is  in  this  very  room  I" 

Dorothy  clasped  her  hands  in  dumb  agony,  and  h'efl 
terrified  eyes  never  left  the  form  of  him  who  had 
once  been  her  lover.  sj!l 

"You  do  not  answer  me,  Mrs.  Brown,"  said  tha 
'doctor,  frowning.  "What  have  you  to  say?" 

"What  could  I  say?"  she  sobbed,  piteously. 

"The  one  who  is  guilty  of  this  diabolical  deed  must  j 
be  held  accountable  for  it,"  said  the  doctor,  facing}  ] 
her  sternly.  "A  just  punishment  must  and  shall  bei  ] 
meted  out  to  the  wicked  party.  If  you  say  that  youi  I 
will  not  admit  the  truth,  then  I  will  turn  the  affaifl  : 
Over  to  Mr.  Garner,  here  and  now !"  Jj-| 

What  would  they  do  with  Jack  ?     In  imagination  \ 
she  saw  him  in  a  prison  cell,  perhaps  doomed  to  drag} 
out  all  the  after  years  of  his  life  there,  and  the  thought 
seemed  to  drive  her  to  madness. 

"I  will  take  it  upon  myself,  and  Jack  shall  go  free,'* 
she  said  to  herself — "yes  blameless  and  free." 

Slowly  the  doctor  stepped  around  to  Jack's  side. 

"What  have  you  to  say  in  this  matter,  Mr.  Gar-* 
Tier?"  he  said. 

"Let  me  answer  instead  of  him,"  Dorothy  panted* 
hoarsely.  "He  knows  nothing  about  it.  Oh,  hear) 
me ! — listen  to  me,  I  pray  you !  It  is  I — I  whom  you 
must  hold  guilty.  Do  with  me  as  you  will!" 

Both  of  the  doctors  nodded  toward  each  other.  !A) 
groan  broke  from  Garner's  lips — this  acknowledge 
ment  was  so  terrible  for  him  to  hear  from  this  strange 
woman's  lips. 

"Who  are  you,  and  what  was  your  motive  for  this 
horrible  crime?"  asked  the  doctor,  sternly. 


240  PRETTY  MADCAP   DOROTHY 

must  make  a  clean  breast  of  why  you  attempted  td 
poison  Miss  Staples,  here  and  now/  .» 

There  was  one  person  in  that  room  who  listened 
to  Dorothy's  most  extraordinary  confession,  white 
with  terror,  and  that  was — Nadine  Holt. 
.  She  knew  full  well  that  the  stranger  was  entirety 
guiltless ;  then  why  under  heaven  had  she  placed  her- 
.self  in  such  a  horrible  position  ? 

iNadine  recovered  her  outward  composure  by  a  great 
effort,  and  listened  intently  to  what  they  were  saying". 
<  "You  must  reveal  your  identity  here  and  now/' 
Doctor  Crandall  was  repeating,  vehemently,  "or  I  shall 
force  you  to  do  so.  When  we  once  become  convinced 
who  you  are,  and  your  motive  for  this  crime,  then 
.we  will  know  how  to  proceed  against  you.  In  the 
first  place,  I  order  you  to  remove  both  the  wig  and 
glasses  which  we  have  discovered  that  you  are  wear-* 
ing".  Your  identity  is  the  first  step  in  this  matter."  »• 
'  'Like  a  flash  Dorothy  flung  herself  at  Jack  Garner's 
feet.  v! 

.Ere  he  could  put  out  his  hand  toward  her,  Doctor! 
-Crandall  had  sprung  forward,  and  with  a  quick  men 
tion  gently  but  deftly  snatched  the  wig  from  her  head 
and  the  glasses  from  her  eyes,  and  Dorothy — Dorothy 
Glenn  stood  revealed,  in  all  her  terror,  before  the  as 
tonished  gaze  of  Jack  Garner  and  Nadine  Holt. 

"You — you!"  cried  Jack,  in  horror  too  great  for 
Svords. 

•i    "Save  rne — save  me!"  gasped  the  girl. 
r     He  wondered  that  he  did  not  go  mad,  then  and 
there  at  the  sight  of  her. 
•     "Let  me  go'!"  she  panted,  imploringly. 
:    fThe  doctor  shook  his  heao. 


PRETTY   MADCAP   TDOROTHY  241' 

"You  must  be  held  answerable  for  your  crime," 
he  said,  sternly.  "You  showed  no  pity  to  the  girl 
i^ing  here  so  helpless,  and  why  should  it  be  shown 
you?  She  lies  here  in  a  deep  sleep,  and  when  she 
awakens  we  shall  know  whether  it  is  life  or  death" 
she  has  to  face.  We  hope  it  is  life,  but  we  can  not 
be  too  sure.  In  the  interim,  while  we  decide  your  fate, 
you  should  thank  Heaven  that  your  plans  are  frus 
trated.  We  can  not  decide,  until  the  crisis  is  past,  as 
to  what  is  best  to  be  done."  \ 

"Jack,"  she  whispered  again,  "let  me  go  far  away] 
and  leave  you  with  Jessie.  She  will  recover,  and  you 
will  marry  her  and  be  happy  after  all,  and  I — I  will 
never  cross  your  path  again."  i 

He  tore  'away  the  white  little  hands  that  clung  to 
him,  and  turned  to  the  doctors;  They  were  awed  at 
the  sight  of  his  white,  desperate  face. 

"You  have  both  assured  me  that  Miss  Staples  will 
not  die  from  this  poisoning,"  he  said,  hoarsely;  "and 
I — I,  the  one  most  vitally  interested  in  this  affair,  say] 
to  you :  Open  that  door  and  let  her  go  her  way."  \ 

Ah,  God!  that  they  should  meet  and  part  like  this-, 
after  all  those  weary  months  of  heartache !  t 

"God  only  knows  her  object  in  coming  here  in  dis* 
guise  and  committing  this  awful  crime,"  was  his  men-' 
tal  thought;  but  aloud,  he  only  said: 

"Go,  and  may  Heaven  forgive  you!  Go  to  ther 
father  of  your  child."  < 

A.  terrible  lump  rose  in  his  throat;  he  could  say 
no  more. 

The  little  one  had  crept  out  of  Dorothy's  arms,  and 
out  into  the  middle  of  the  floor;  but  Dorothy  nevet, 
in  that  awful  moment,  thought  of  the  child.  She  was 


242  PRETTY  MADCAP  DOROTHY 

so  stunned  that  the  full  import  of  his  words  did  not 
strike  her  just  then. 

She  only  knew  that  he  was  opening  the  door  foe 
her,  and  harshly  commanding  her  to  go. 

Like  a  storm-driven  swallow,  with  one  quick  glance 
in  his  face,  the  girl  turned  and  fled  from  the  room, 
and  out  of  the  house. 

"You  were  too  generous  toward  her,"  cried  one 
of  the  doctors.  "See!  she  has  abandoned  her  little 
child,  Mr.  Garner." 

Then  suddenly  the  doctor  stopped  short,  and  looked 
first  at  the  fair-haired,  beautiful  babe,  then  at  Mtv 
Garner,  and  said  no  more. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 


When  Dorothy  fled  so  precipitately  from  the  room, 
she  fairly  ran  into  the  arms  of  a  man  who  was  crouch 
ing  at  one  side,  listening  intently.  With  a  muttered 
imprecation,  he  drew  back,  and  it  was  then  Dorothy 
saw  his  face.  i 

-  "Hushi  On  your  life,  don't  dare  to  make  an  out 
cry!"  cried  the  harsh  voice  of  Harry  Kendal. 

Before  she  could  utter  the.  scream  that  welled  up 
from  her  heart,  he  had  seized  her  in  his  strong  arms, 
thrown  a  dark  shawl  over  her  head,  dashed  cut  into 
the  street  with  her,  and  into  a  cab  in  waiting. 

Too  weak  to  struggle,  too  weak  to  cry  out,  her 
head  fell  backward  upon  her  abductor's  shoulder,  and 
she  knew  no  more. 

When  she  awoke  to  consciousness  of  what  was  trans* 


PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY  243 

1 

faring  about  her,  she  found  herself  still  in  the  coacK 
Reside  Kendal,  and  the  vehicle  was  whirling  along* 
through  the  sunshine  and  shadow  of  a  country  road 
$vith  alarming  rapidity.  j 

"Dorothy — my  darling  Dorothy!"  he  cried,  clasp- 
Ing  her  hands  and  showering  kisses  upon  her  upturned 
fece.  "Oh,  Dorothy,  my  little  bride  that  is  to  be,  why 
8id  you  fly  from  me  so  cruelly  the  morning  after  the 
ball  at  our  home  in  Yonkers  ?" 

"Do  not  speak  to  me  1  Stop  this  coach  immediately, 
let  me  get  out!"  she  cried.  "How  dare  you  at* 
lempt  to  thrust  your  unwelcome  face  in  my  way; 
again?  Go  back  to  Iris  Vincent,  for  whom  you  left 
Sfte;  or  to  Nadine  Holt,  whose  heart  and  whose 
life  you  have  wrecked.  I  know  you  for  what  you  are,j 
and  I  abhor  you  a  thousand  times  more  than  I  ever 
imagined  I  fancied  you." 

7  "Do  you  mean  that  you  do  not  wish  to  go  back  to 
tlie  Yonkers  home  and  marry  me?"  he  demanded. 

But  before  she  could  find  time  to  reply,  he  went  on  : 
*  "You  were  terribly  foolish  to  grow  so  jealous  o£ 
Iris  Vincent  as  to  run  away  from  me.  Why,  I — I 
foras  merely  flirting  with  her  because  she  was  pretty. 

"Why,  she  is  married  now,  and  at  the  other  end 
of  the  world,  for  aught  I  know  or  care.  I  can  onlyj 
add  that,  from  the  moment  I  learned  of  your  disap 
pearance,  I  have  been  searching  for  you  night  and 
Say.  Oh,  Dorothy  now  that  I  have  found  you,  do 
not  treat  me  like  this,  I  beseech  you !  Let  us  kiss  and 
make  up.  We  are  driving  direct  toward  the  parson-* 
age,  where  we  are  to  be  married.  ' 
i  "Few  men  would  care  for  you  so  much  upon  mak> 
the  terrible  discovery  that  you  ka«d  S^  %«$»,  bcgB^ 


244  PRETTY  MADCAP  DOROTHY 

and  directly  to  the  amis  of  an  old  lover,  remaining 
under  his  roof  until  you  were  cast  out  from  it  by  that 
lover  himself.  I  do  not  know  even  what  your  quarrel 
iwith  him  was  about.  I  do  not  ask  to  know.  The 
object  which  took  me  there,  I  do  not  mind  telling  you.  ' 
3  had  a  quarrel  with  your  lover,  Jack  Garner.  We 
{were  to  meet  early  this  morning  to  settle  the  affair  of 
honor;  but  as  he  did  not  show  up  to  make  the  ar 
rangements,  I  forced  my  way  into  his  house,  in  order 
ithat  I  might  not  miss  him.  I  heard  him  turning  you 
[from  his  door.  Then  amazement  held  me  spell-bound. 
I  shall  take  this  into  account  when— when  I  have  my 
settlement  with  him,  later  on.  Any  indignity  offered 
to  you  shall  be  my  affair,  as  your  husband,  to  settle." 
.'  Dorothy  had  drawn  back  from  him  listening  with 
liorror  to  the  words  that  fell  from  his  lips. 
i  "The  duel  must  be  averted  at  any  cost,"  she  told 
fierself ;  }et  she  could  not — oh,  she  could  not! — marry 
Ihim.  "I  must  think  of  some  way  out  of  this,"  thought 
Dorothy,  in  the  wildest  agony.  "I  must  save  myself, 
and  save  him,  too." 

But  in  a  moment,  while  she  was  pondering  over 
the  affair,  the  vehicle  came  to  a  sudden  stop,  and, 
looking  out,  she  saw  it  was  standing  before  the  wide  I 
entrance-gate  of  a  parsonage. 

"Here  we  are!"  cried  Kendal,  holding  out  his  hand  f 
to  her. 

"I  have  not  said  that  I  would  marry  you,s?  she 
cried.    "How  dared  you  bring  me  here?"  * 

"That  fact  was  settled  between  you  and  me  so  long 
Sgo  that  you  surprise  me  by  your  words,"  he  said, 
angrily. 
«    "There  is  such  a  thing  as  a  person  changing  hec 


PRETTY  MADCAP  DOROTHY  245 

mind,"  said  Dorothy,  as  she  leaped  from  the  carriage* 
an^  stood  facing  him  under  the  trees. 

Ci  Surety  you  do  not  mean  that  you  have  changed 
yours  ?"  retorted  Kendal,  knowing  that  his  best  policy] 
was  to  temporize  with  her. 

"I  have,  indeed,"  declared  the  girl;  "and  you  willi 
therefore,  oblige  me,  Mr.  Kendal,  by  re-entering  youn 
carriage  and  driving  along." 

"Do  you  think  I  would  leave  you  here,  Dorothy," 
he  said,  in  his  most  winning  voice — "here,  at  this 
strange  parsonage?  I  should  say  not!  If  you  ob 
ject  to  marrying  me  now,  I  know  it  is  only  througli 
pique ;  but  still  I  say  that  I  shall  await  your  own  good 
time;  and,  as  the  song  goes,  'When  love  has  con* 
quered  pride  and  anger,  you  will  call  me  back  again/ 
Do  get  in,  Dorothy,  darling ;  do  not  make  a  scene  here. 
See!  they  are  watching  us  from  the  window.  Geti 
in,  and  we  will  drive  on  to  Yonkers.  It  is  only  four 
miles  farther  up  the  road.  I  promise  you  you  shall 
have  your  own  way.  Mrs.  Kemp  is  at  the  old  home. 
You  will  be  welcomed  with  open  arms." 

"Take  your  hand  off  my  arm,  or  I  shall  scream !" 
cried  the  girl,  struggling  to  free  herself. 

Quick  as  a  flash  he  seized  her,  and,  with  the 
rapidity  of  lightning,  thrust  her  back  into  the  coach. 

"Drive  on — drive  on !"  Kendal  yelled  to  the  driver—* 
"you  know  where !"  and  despite  Dorothy's  wild,  pierc 
ing  cries,  the  coach  fairly  flew  down  the  white,  wind 
ing  road,  and  was  soon  lost  to  view  amid  the  denso 
trees. 

It  soon  became  evident  to  Dorothy  that  she  was 
only  losing  her  strength  in  shouting  for  help. 


246  PRETTY  MADCAP  DORC'fHY 

r    Kendal  was  leaning  back  in  his  seat,  with  the  most 
mocking  smile  on  his  lips  that  ever  was  seen. 

"It'  is  a  pity  to  waste  so  much  breath  on  the  deserti 
air,"  he  sneered.  "I  would  advise  you  to  stop  be 
fore  you  become  exhausted,  as  there  is  no  one  td 
hear  you  and  to  come  to  your  aid." 

But  Dorothy  did  not  heed,  and  renewed  her  cries 
the  more  vociferously. 

He  had  said  thoughtlessly,  that  her  cries  would 
startle  the  horses,  never  dreaming  that  this  would  in* 
deed  be  the  case.  But,  much  to  his  alarm,  he  noticed 
that  their  speed  was  increasing  with  every  instant? 
of  time.  It  broke  upon  him  all  too  soon  that  they;  j 
were  indeed  running  away,  and  that  the  driver  was 
powerless  to  check  them.  '  >  '  -•  ^^! 

In  great  alarm,  Kendal  sprang  to  his  feet  and  threw; 
open  the  door.  That  action  wras  fatal;  for  at  that 
instant  the  horses  suddenly  swerved  to  the  right,  and 
he  was  flung  head  foremost  from  the  vehicle;  the 
wheels  passed  over  him,  and  the  next  instant  the 
coach  collided  with  a  large  tree  by  the  road-side,  and 
Dorothy  knew  no  more.  H 

Up  this  lonely  path  walked  a  woman,  young  and 
very  fair,  but  with  a  face  white  as  it  would  ever  be 
in  death.  And  as  her  despairing  eyes  traveled  upj 
and  down  the  scene  they  suddenly  encountered  the 
white  upturned  face  of  a  woman  lying  in  the  long 
grass. 

With  a  great  cry  she  reached  her  side. 

"Dead!"  she  whispered  in  a  voice  of  horror,  as 
she  knelt  beside  the  figure  lying  there,  and  placed 
her  hand  over  her  heart.  But  no ;  the  heart  beneath! 
'her  light  touch  beat  ever  so  faintly.  "Thank  Goal 


PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY  2471 

this    poor    creature   is    not    dead,"   murmured    the 
stranger,  fervently. 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

Dorothy  opened  her  eyes  wide,  looking  up  In  wonder 
at  the  pale,  sweet  face  bending  over  her. 
i     "Poor  child!"  murmured  a  sweet,  pathetic  voice. 

A  kindly  hand  raised  her,  gently  but  firmly,  from 
the  dew-wet  grass,  and  pushed  the  damp,  golden  curls 
back  from  her  face. 

The  caressing  touch  thrilled  the  girl's  being  through 
every  fiber. 

"You  ask  why  I  am  here!"  she  sobbed.  "Let  me 
tell  you :  I  came  here  to  die.  Death  would  have  come 
to  me,  I  feel  sure,  if  you  had  not  crossed  my  path. 
I  should  have  crept  to  the  brink  of  the  bank  yonder, 
and  thrown  myself  down  into  the  river,  and  ended  a 
life  that  is  not  worth  the  living." 

"You  must  have  seen  a  great  deal  of  trouble  to 
cause  you  to  talk  like  that." 

j     "I  have  seen  more  trouble  than   any  other  per- 
;son  on  earth,"  retorted  Dorothy,  bitterly. 

"Have  you  lost  friends,  or  those  nearer  and  dearer 
to  you?"  came  the  gentle  question,  and  Dorathy  did 
not  hesitate,  strangely  enough,  to  answer  it. 

"I  never  had  a  relative  that  I  can  remember,"  she 
answered,  with  a  little  sob.  "But  I  have  lost  my  lover 
•—my  lover!    He  is  to  wed  another,  and  that  other  a 
girl  who  was  once  my  dearest  friend." 
\  ^Your  story  is  a  sad  one,"  replied  the  stranger, 


24S  PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY 

soothingly;  "but  it  might  have  been  worse — mucK 
worse,  What  if  you  had  lost  a  husband  whom  you 
loved,  or  a  little  child  whom  you  idolized?  That 
would  have  been  trouble  before  which  such  as  you 
are  grieving  over  now  would  have  paled  as  the  stars 
pale  before  a  strong  noon-day  sun. 

"I  do  not  ask  you  your  story,  my  poor  girl,  but 
listen,  and  I  will  tell  you  mine,  and  you  can  theti 
judge  how  much  mightier  is  my  grief  than  yours."  ' ' 

"If  you  look  through  the  trees  yonder  you  will  see* 
a  great  stone  mansion  on  the  brow  of  the  hill.  >; 

"It  is  my  home.  I  live  there  with  a  dear  young 
husband  who  adores  me ;  my  slightest  wish  is  his  law* 

"I  have  liveried  servants  who  anticipate  and  exe-» 
cute  my  slightest  wish.  I  have  all  that  wealth  can 
buy  and  love  can  lavish  upon  me,  but,  God  help  me ! 
I  am  the  most  unhappy  creature  that  walks  this  flower-* 
strewn  earth. 

"I  have  endured  a  sorrow  so  great  that  the  won 
der  is  it  has  not  turned  my  brain.  Some  few  months 
since  I  was  happy  in  the  love  of  a  little  child.  Oh! 
I  idolized  my  babe  with  a  love  that  seemed  greater 
than  human  affection.  It  was  the  loadstar  of  my  life. 

"'Take  care!  Beware!'  cried  one  and  all.  'Such 
idolatry  is  not  wise ;  it  displeases  Heaven/ 

"I  laughed,  and  did  not  heed.  One  day  we  dis 
charged  a  worthless  servant  and  he  cried  out  to  my 
husband,  as  he  turned  away  from  the  door :  'You  shall 
repent  this!  I  will  yet  wring  the  heart  of  you  and 
yours  to  the  very  core ;  and  in  that  moment,  remember 
me!' 

"A  week  passed.  One  night  I  suddenly  awoke- 
from  a  troubled  dream  about  my  babe. 


PRETTY   MADCAP   DOROTHY  249 

"I  put  out  my  hand.    It  was  not  in  its  little  crib 

of  white  and  gold.    I  sprang  from  my  couch  with  wild 

cries  that  alarmed  the  household,  for  I  could  not  find 

3  my  child.    She  was  gone,  as  if  the  earth  had  opened 

|  and  swallowed  her.     But  on  the  pillow  of  the  crib 

'  the  servants  found  a  note  which  bore  these  words : 

i      "  'My  revenge  is  complete.    It  is  useless  to  search 

.'for  your  child,  for  by  the  time  this  meets  your  eye 

your  little  one  will  have  found  a  watery  grave/ 

"I  was  wild  with  grief  for  days  and  weeks.  And 
when  I  became  somewhat  rational,  and  could  under 
stand  what  was  passing  about  me,  I  learned  the  ter- 
irible  truth — the  sad,  pitiful  story :  my  babe  had  indeed 
found  a  watery  grave.  They  found  a  little  shoe,  its 
cape,  and  portions  of  its  dress  floating  on  the  waves 
the  next  morning.  Eut  the  body  was  never  recovered ; 
it  had  drifted  out  to  sea.  Now  you  will  not  wonder 
why  I  wander  up  and  down  this  lonely  path  at  mid 
night — why  I  listen  on  my  bended  knees  for  hours 
to  the  whispering  voice  of  the  waves.  It  seems  to  me 
like  the  voice  of  my  little  child ;  and  some  day  I  shall 
[follow  her  into  the  dark,  cold  waves,  and  be  at  rest 
with  my  darling  whose  tiny  hands  beckon  me  down 
to  death  in  the  cold,  watery  depths  whose  waves  are 
glinted  by  the  golden  light  of  the  flickering  stars." 
1  Dorothy  scarcely  breathed,  so  intense  was  her  effort 
to  restrain  herself  until  the  other  had  finished. 
*  In  fewer  words  than  we  can  explain  it  she  had  flung1 
her  arms  about  the  stranger's  neck  and  breathed  out 
to  her  the  startling  story  of  that  never-to-be-forgotten 
night  when  she  had  rescued  from  the  waves  the  child 
Ihis  poor  young  mother  was  'describing. 

"Oh,  take  me  to  my  child!"  she  cried.     Now— 


'£50  PRETTY   MADCAP  DOROTHY 

now!    Let  not  an  instant's  time  elapse.    Every  mo 
ment  is  precious.    I  can  not  wait— I  can  not !" 

I '   Then  Dorothy  had  her  own  story  to  tell :  that  she 
Bared  not  return  to  Jack  Garner's  home,  where  she,, 
liad  left  little  Pearl;  and  she  told  her  the  whole  story f 
from  beginning  to  end.    Then  came  another  revela 
tion  : 

JH  "Jack  Garner  is  my  husband's  partner!"  the  strange 
lady  cried.  "Come  back  with  me,  and  leave  it  to 
tne  to  fully  establish  your  innocence  of  the  atrocious 
Crime  of  which  they  believe  you  guilty. 

if  "We  have  never  visited  at  each  other's  homes, 
Strangely  enough,  because  of  some  slight  disagree- 
tnent  in  the  firm  at  the  very  time  Mr.  Garner  was 
taken  in. 

Jpf  "Come  and  talk  it  over  with  my  husband.  We  will 
Bo  whatever  he  decides." 

I-  Oh,  the  great  rejoicing  in  the  old  stone  mansion! 
ffhe  horses  were  hitched  up  without  an  instant's  de 
lay,  and  driven  like  mad  into  the  city,  arriving  at  the 
Garner  mansion  just  as  the  clock  was  striking  twelve. 

f-  The  old  servant  who  answered  the  loud  peal  of 
the  bell  was  shocked  at  the  sight  of  the  beautiful  lady 

:  fUrho  rushed  past  him  in  the  corridor,  crying  out :  "Oh*  ? 
ffor  the  love  of  Heaven,  bring  quickly  to  me  the' 
taby  whom  you  call  Pearl!" 

k    Dorothy  and  the  lady's  husband  followed. 

P  The  great  disturbance  awoke  Jack  Garner.  He 
tieard  the  scurrying  of  feet  past  his  door.  They 
Stopped  at  the  next  room,  where  the  little  abandoned 
fcabe  was  sleeping. 

The  next  instant  a  great,  wild,  happy  cry  rent  the 


PRETTY  MADCAP  DOROTHY  251 

air,  which  the  angels  must  have  heard  and  wept  ro* 
joicingly  over;  and  he  heard  the  joyful  cry:  • ' 

"Yes;  it  is  my  child — -my  own  little,  lost  child  P1 

Robing  himself  hurriedly,  Jack  quickly  opened  the 
door;  but  his  partner  was  standing  there,  and  thrust 
him  back.  g? 

Jack  knew  of  the  loss  of  the  little  one,  and  his 
partner  explained  to  him  how  mysteriously  it  had 
been  found,  and  by  Jack's  old  sweetheart,  Dorothy 
Glenn. 

"Then  the  child  she  had  here  was  not  her  own?'* 
cried  Jack,  white  as  death. 

And  as  the  whole  story  began  to  dawn  upon  him, 
Jack  buried  his  fair,  handsome,  haggard  face  in  his 
hands,  and  wept  for  joy. 

But  when  his  partner  touched  upon  the  subject  ol 
Dorothy's  being  accused  of  poisoning  Miss  Staples, 
he  sprang  up  hastily  and  grasped  the  other's  hand, 

"The  accusation  was  not  true,"  cried  Jack.  "Doro* 
thy  was  not  guilty.  A  girl  whom  Jessie  had  knowa 
for  years,  and  who  was  at  her  bedside,  did  the  deed. 
She  wrote  a  full  confession.  I  found  it  under  my] 
plate  at  the  dinner-table.  Nadine  Holt  has  fled  to 
escape  just  punishment.  Oh,  how  I  wish  I  could  find 
poor,  abused  Dorothy,  to  tell  her  the  truth !" 

And  when  he  found  Dorothy  was  beneatu  that 
roof,  and  at  Jessie  Staples'  bedside,  his  joy  knew  no 
bounds. 

He  sought  her  there  at  once  to  crave  her  pardon 
for  the  unjust  suspicion,  and  no  one  ever  knew  just 
exactly  what  passed  between  the  sick  girl  lying  there, 
Dorothy,  and  her  old  lover. 

in  his  great  generous-heariedness,  Jack  sent  hur- 


252  PRETTY    MADCAP    DOROTHY 

riedly  out  to  learn  the  fate  of  the  hapless  Kendal.  He 
\vas  not  dead,  they  soon  discovered,  but  in  a  very, 
critical  condition.  And  Jack's  generosity  went  so  far 
as  to  bring  his  rival  beneath  that  roof,  and  nurse 
him  back  to  health  and  strength. 

From  the  first,  even  while  lying  on  her  sick-bed, 
Jessie  took  the  greatest  interest  in  the  young  doc 
tor  who,  she  remembered,  had  always  been  so  kind  \ 
to  her;  and  as  soon  as  she  was  able,  she  begged  that  < 
her  chair  might  be  drawn  up  to  his  bedside,  that  she 
might  show  him  her  kindly  sympathy.     And  in  the 
days  and  weeks  that  they  were  thus  thrown  together, 
Jessie  learned  to  care  for  the  handsome,  dark-eyed 
Harry  Kendal  quite  as  much  as  she  had  ever  cared 
for  Jack. 

One  day,  when  the  sun  was  shining,  and  the  birds 
were  twittering  to  each  other  of  early  spring,  Harry 
Kendal  asked  the  pale,  sweet  girl  who  knelt  beside 
his  couch  to  be  his  bride. 

And  she  answered  him,  through  her  bitter  tears, 
that  though  she  had  been  mad  enough  to  learn  to  love 
him,  it  could  never  be,  for  she  was  betrothed  to  Jack. 

Jack  had  entered  the  room  unperceived  by  both, 
and  had  heard   all,   and   with  the  magnanimity  sol 
characteristic  of  him,  he  stepped  nobly  forward  and  I 
placed  Jessie's  hand  in  that  of  the  man  she  loved. 

"I  absolve  you  from  your  promise,  my  dear  girl," 
he  said.  "You  must  wed  him  whom  you  love  best. 
Never  mind  me." 

"But  you?"  sobbed  Jessie.  "I — I  will  accept  my 
freedom  only  on  one  condition,  Jack ;  and  that  is,  that 
you  ask  Dorothy  to  fill  my  place — aye,  to  take  her  own 
old  place  again  in  your  heart  and  life !" 


PRETTY    MADCAP   DOROTHY  253 

'     "Not  now,"  he  said;  "but  perhaps  I  may  speak 
to  her  some  time  in  the  future."  *j 

And  he  must  have  spoken  to  her,  for  three  weeks 
j  later  there  was  a  double  wedding  at  the  Garner  man- 
3  sion ;  and  there  never  were  two  more  beautiful  brides 
1  than  Jessie  and  Dorothy,  nor  two  happier  young  hus- 
j  bands  than  Harry  Kendal  and  Jack  Garner ;  and  Jack 
never  ceased  blessing  the  fates  that  gave  to  him  for 
his  bride,  after  all  his  trials,  pretty  Madcap  Dorothy. 
But,  then,  the  course  of  true  love  never  did  run 
smooth. 

raja 


H  Stranger  Ian  Mm 


MOST  MABVELOUS  AND 
ORDINARY  BOOS  EVES 


-_.     _  _ 

Man 

They  Could 
Not  Han 


astounding^  history  ef  Joha 

rw--  :  -^g»  ,—1     '^?4^       '«v?'S^"  .  -  *  •  „"":       ^__J 

Lec.f  Three  times  placed  ispoa 
^  -^^  ..^^pr^i^^^^t  ^-.'3 
the  scaffold  and  the  trap  sprang?  , 

•JTct"  today  he  walks  the  streets  I 

•-**a&e  '  '' 

free 


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THE  HART  SERIES 


Laura  Jean  Libbey  Miss  Caroline  Hart  Mrs.  E.  Burke  Collins  Mrs.  Alex.  McVeigh 

Charlotte  M.  Braeme  Barbara  Howard  Lucy  Randall  Comfort  Mary  E.  Br-an  Man* TCo 

»*  11   Y38.1^  eve.r  a  galaxy  of  names  representing  such  authors  offered  to  the  pn!  fie  before? 

Masters  all  of  writing  stories  that  arouse  the  emotions,  in  sentiment,  passion  and  love,  th'-ir  books  ex 

have  ever  been  written. 
NOW  READY 


md  love,  tb-ir  books  excel  any 


1—  Kidnapped  at  the  Altar,  Laura  Jean  Libbey. 
2  —  Gladiola's  Two  Lovers,  Laura  Jean  Libbey. 
3—  Lil,  the  Dancing  Girl,  Caroline  Hart. 
5—  The  Woman  Who  Came  Between,  Caroline  Hart. 

6  —  Aleta's  Terrible  Secret,  Laura  Jean  Libbey. 

7  —  For  Love  or  Honor,  Caroline  Hart. 

8—  The  Romance  of  Enola,  Laura  Jean  Libbey. 

9—  A  Handsome  Engineer's  Flirtation,  Laura  J.  Libbey 

10—  A  Little  Princess,  Caroline  Hart. 

11  —  Was  She  Sweetheart  or  Wife,  Laura  Jean  fcibbey. 

12  —  Nameless  Bess,  Caroline  Hart. 

13  —  Delia's  Handsome  Lover,  Laura  Jean  Libbey. 
14—  That  Awful  Scar,  Caroline  Hart. 

15  —  Flora  Garland's  Courtship,  Laura  Jean  Libbey. 

16  —  Love's  Rugged  Path,  Caroline  Hart. 

17  —  My  Sweetheart  Idabell,  Laura  Jean  Libbey. 
'.8  —  Married  at  Sight,  Caroline  Hart. 

19  —  Pretty  Madcap  Dorothy,  Laura  Jean  Libbey 
}0  —  Her  Right  to  Love,  Caroline  Hart. 

11—  The  Loan  of  a  Lover,  Laura  Jean  Libbey. 
J2  —  The  Game  of  Love,  Caroline  Hart. 

?3  —  A  Fatal  Elopement,  Laura  Jean  Libbey. 
!4  —  Vendetta,  Marie  Corelli. 
'5  —  The  Girl  He  Forsook,  Laura  Jean  Libbey. 
'6  —  Redeemed  by  Love.  Caroline  Hart. 
.8  —  A  Wasted  Love,  Caroline  Hart. 
<9  —  A  Dangerous  Flirtation,  La-^ra  Jean  Libbey. 
;  0  —  A  Haunted  Life,  Caroline  Hart. 
1  —  Garnetta,  the  Silver  King's  Daughter,  L.  J.  Libbey. 
2—  A  Romance  of  Two  Worlds,  Marie  Corelli. 
4  —  Her  Ransom,  Charles  Garvice. 

6—  A  Hidden  Terror,  Caroline  Hart. 

7  —  Flora  Temple,  Laura  Jean  Libbey. 

8  —  Claribel's  Love  Story,  Charlotte  M.  Braeme. 
9—  Pretty  Rose  Hall,  Laura  Jean  Libbey. 

0—  The  Mystery  of  Suiride  Place,  Mrs.  Alex.  Miiltr. 

1  —  Cora,  the  Pet  of  the  Regiment,  Laura  Jean  Libbey. 

2  —  The  Vengeance  of  Love,  Caroline  Hart. 

J  —  Jolly  Sally  Pendleton,  Laura  Jean  Libbey. 

1—  A  Bitter  Reckoning,  Mrs.  E.  Burke  Collins. 

i—  Kathleen's  Diamond  s,  Mrs.  Alex.  McVeigh  Miller. 

>  —  Angela's  Lover,  Caroline  Hart. 

7—  Lancaster's  Choice,  Mrs.  Alex.  McVeigh  Miller. 
'  —  The  Madness  of  Love,  Caroline  Hart. 

»—  Little  Sweetheart,  Mrs.  Alex.  McVeigh  Miller. 

)  —  A  Working  Girl's  Honor,  Caroline  Hart. 
;  .—The  Mystery  of  Colde  F»ll,  Charlotte  M.  Braeme. 
II  —  The  Rival  Heiresses,  Caroline  Hart. 

!—  Little  Nobody,  Mrs.  Alex.  McVeigh  Miller. 
U—  Her  Husband's  Ghost,  Mary  E.  Bryan. 

j—  Sold  for  Gold,  Mrs.  E.  Burke  Collins. 

'  —  Her  Husband's  Secret,  Lucy  Randall  Comfort. 
•',,  —  A  Passionate  Love,  Barabara  Howard. 
:'»—  From  Want  to  Wealth,  Caroline  Hart. 
Pi—  Loved  You  Better  Than  You  Knew,  Mrs.  A.  Miller. 

>  —  Irene  s  Vow,  Charlotte  M.  Braeme. 

|  —  She  Loved  Not  Wisely,  Caroline  Hart. 

SJ!—  Molly's  Treachery,  Mrs.  Alex.  McVeigh  Miller. 

jj  —Was  It  Wrong?  Barbara  Howard. 

i,  —The  Midnight  Marriage,  Mrs.  Sumner  Hayden. 

*  —  Ailsa,  Wenona  Gilman. 

'  —Her  Dark  Inheritance,  Mrs.  E.  Burke  Collini. 


—  VJoJa'g  Vanity,  Mrs.  Alex.  McVeigh  Miller. 

of  the  Hurricane  Hills,  Mary  E.  Bryan. 


—The  Ghost 


69— A  Woman  Wronged,  Caroline  Hart. 

70— Was  &he  His  Lawful  Wife?   ^a/barjtHbward. 

71— Val,  the  Tomboy,  Wenon?  Gilman. 

72— The  Richmond  Secret,  M  s.  E.  Burke  Collins 

73— Edna's  Vow,  Charlotte  M.  Stanley. 

74— Heart's  of  Fire,  Caroline  Hart. 

75 — St.  Elmo,  Augusta  J.  Evans. 

76— Nobody's  Wife,  Caroline  Hart. 

77 — Ishmael,  Mrs.  E.  D.  E.  N, .  Southworth 

78— Self-Raised,  Mrs.  E.  D.  E.  N.  Southworth. 

79 — Pretty  Little  Rosebud,  Barbara  Howard. 

80 — Inez,  Augusta  J.  Evans. 

81— The  Girl  Wife,  Mrs.  Sumner  Hayden. 

82— Dora  Thome,  Charlotte  M.  Braeme. 

83— Followed  by  Fate,  Lucy  Randall  Comfort. 

84— India,  or  the  Pearl  of  Pearl  River,  Southwortl 

85 — Mad  Kmgsley's  Heir,  Mi  3.  E.  Burke  Collins. 

atsas^KS^^ss1-*-1^! 

88— Daintie's  Cruel  Rivals,  Mrs.  Alex.  McV.  Mille 

89— Lillian's  Vow,  Caroline  Hart. 

90 — Miss  Estcourt,  Charles  Gorvice. 

91 — Beulah,  Augusta  J.  Evans. 

92— Daphane's  Fate,  Mrs.  E.  Burke  Collins. 

93 — Wormwood,  Marie  Corelli. 

94— Nellie,  Charles  Garvice. 

95— His  Legal  Wife,  Mary  E.  Bryan. 

96 — Macaria,  Augusta  J.  Evans. 

97 — Lost  and  Found,  Charlotte  M.  Stanley. 

98 — The  Curse  of  Clifton,  Mrs.  Southworth. 

y(J— That  Strange  Girl,  Charles  Garvice. 
100— The  Lovers  at  Storm  Castle,  Mrs.  M.  A.  Coll 
•  (•*• — Margcnc's  Mistake,  Lucy  Randall  Comfort. 
— Tue  Curse  of  Pocahontas,  Wenona  Gilman. 
103— Mv  Love  Kitty,  Charles  Garvice. 
104 — Hit  -"airy  Queen,  Elizabeth  Stiles. 
105 — Fro: .  Worse  than  Death,  Caroline  Hart. 

--A'idrey  Fane's  Love,  Mrs.  ".  Burko;  Collins. 
107—1  horns  and  Orange  Blosso    s,  Charlotte  Bra 
108-  Ethel  Dreeme,  Frank  Corey. 
109— Three  Girls,  Mary  E.  Bryan. 
HO — A  Strange  Marriage,  Caroline  Hart. 
Ill— Violet,  Charles  Garvice. 
112— The  Ghost  of  the  Power,  Mrs.  Sumner  Hayden  < 
113— Baptised  with  a  Curse,  Edith  Stewart  Drewry. 
114 — A  Tragic  Blunder,  Mrs.  H.  Lovett  Cameron. 
115— The  Secret  of  Her  Life,  Edward  Jenkins. 
116 — My  Guardian,  Ada  Cambridge. 
117 — A  Last  Love,  Georges  Ohnet. 
118 — His  Angel,  Henry  Herman. 
119— Pretty  Miss  Bellew,  Theo.  Gift. 
120— Blind  Love,  Wilkie  Collins. 
121 — A  Life's  Mistake,  Mrs.  H.  Lovett  Cameron. 
122— Won  By  Waiting,  Edna  Lyall. 
123— Passions  Slave,  King. 
124— Under  Currents,  Duchess. 
125— False  Vow,  Braeme. 
126— The  Belle  of  Lynne,  Braeme. 
127 — Lord  Lynne's  Choice,  Braeme. 
12o — Blossom  and  Fruit,  Braeme. 
129— Weaker  Than  a  Woman,  Braem( 
130 — Tempest  and  Suns'iine,  Mary  J.  ilolmes. 
131— Lady  Muriel's  Secret,  Braei^. 
132 — A  Mad  Love,  Braeme. 


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